


Fragments

by talesofsymphoniac



Category: The Death Gate Cycle - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Dragon Alfred, During Canon, Friendship, Gen, Identity Issues, Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-02-24 13:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 72,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13214313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofsymphoniac/pseuds/talesofsymphoniac
Summary: In the Labyrinth, it only takes one mistake to end it all, and getting too near a dragon's domain is as big a mistake as they come. Luckily, Haplo and his dog are blessed with the intervention of an unexpected ally. (Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence)





	1. Spark

**Author's Note:**

> OwlFlight/@hamelin-born on Tumblr had the initial idea for this AU, and started talking about with with me a few weeks ago. It's been an ongoing conversation between us ever since, so I thought I'd give it a shot!  
> Enjoy!

Haplo stopped running.

How long and far he had come, now, he wasn’t certain, but it hardly mattered, anymore, for he could run no further, and there was nowhere to hide. He was exhausted, and he was injured, perhaps fatally; his head throbbed painfully, and his mouth tasted like blood. Wind whipped around him as the falling rain reduced the visibility of his surroundings, but the same conditions presented no problem to his pursuers.

In the Labyrinth, sometimes it didn’t matter how clever or quick or strong you were. Sometimes you were just unlucky, and Haplo had been very unlucky, indeed.

The Squatters had warned him away from this place, but here he had come, for not even the worst creatures of the Labyrinth would dare approach a dragon’s lair. At least, that was his hope. It was his only hope, however slim it was. But the pack was closing in, and the dog’s barks grew more urgent, and Haplo readied himself for a last stand.

The beasts-- snogs, like the ones that had killed his parents-- emerged from the trees, into the red illumination of his runes. Words tumbled from his lips: a last, desperate spell. The dog growled beside him.

And then, in the space of an instant: the shrill, panicked cry of one of the snogs, a blur of green slamming against the leader of the pack, blood spurting out of the animal as its head was ripped clean off.

The creatures had forgotten him entirely, too busy trying to flee the new threat, but leaving the dragon’s domain would not save them now that they had trespassed, there. One by one, they were cut down by the magnificent being, ten times their size and twice as quick.

 _Run._ It was the only clear thought in his head, an instinct that took over when everything else had devolved to sludge. He managed to pull himself to his feet, though he didn’t remember when he’d fallen down. _Run, now._ The dog whined, trying to help him, and all Haplo could see were his hands against its fur, smearing it with his own blood. He’d lost so much. Too much.

His vision blurred, and he was on the ground again, warm despite the rain. And then, he lost himself entirely.

* * *

He woke up.

Though he still felt the weakness of near-death in his limbs, he was no longer in pain. Air moved in and out of his lungs. He felt solid ground under his back. Pressed against his arm was a warm body that he instinctively knew belonged to the dog.

He was alive.

He didn’t dare move, though, or even open his eyes. Holding absolutely still and keeping his breathing steady, he peered through the dog’s eyes, instead: a useful trick that he was still growing accustomed to.

The first thing he saw was the dragon.

It sat at the far end of a cavern, head rested on its front legs, watching him with unblinking eyes like molten gold. It seemed smaller than Haplo remembered, but it was without a doubt the same dragon that he had seen before; its emerald green scales were visible even in the dim light of the cave.

Haplo held his body still, fighting to keep breathing normally, to suppress the runes that would glow red at the imminent danger he faced. Despite his best efforts, he was almost certain the dragon knew he was awake; there was nothing he could do to stop the relentless pounding of his heart.

He was going to die, after all, long and slow and in the worst way possible.

His best option was probably to end his own life, right here. Swiftly, before the dragon could begin its torture. But some part of him resisted, still desperately clinging to life.

Still as stone, the dog stayed curled up against his side, waiting for him to come to a decision.

He couldn’t do it. Defying all reason, that basest, panicked part of him took control of his fingers, etching frenzied runes into the dirt. The dragon jerked, on its feet and charging toward him before he could finish a single structure, force a single syllable from his lips.

It leapt over him in a green flash, up and out of the cave.

For a split second, Haplo didn’t understand what had happened-- one moment the dragon was there, and the next, it simply wasn’t. He recovered quickly, springing to his feet, summoned spear in hand. Weak as he was, he rushed outside, himself, runes glowing angry red.

The dragon hadn’t gone far; it was perched in a tree just across from the mouth of the cave.

The world seemed to slow, leaving him stuck in this single moment: Haplo watching the dragon, the dragon watching him. Even outside, the area around them was difficult to see, not only from his blurring vision, but from the heavy storm clouds that enveloped them.

The rain had stopped for the moment, though, and even the wind had died, leaving them in eerie silence. Words to strike the creature at range entered Haplo’s head, but he felt faint; his heart beating rapidly and his throat too dry to finish any spell he might care to cast.

He turned to run, instead, but in only a few short steps, his legs gave out, vision leaving him entirely as he fought against falling unconscious for a second time.

The dog yelped, and Haplo struggled to find his feet. Why wasn’t he dead yet? His thoughts were sluggish, but he was almost certain the dragon should be doing something. Was this its intention? To let him writhe like a worm on a hook while it watched?

Haplo’s fists clenched, and he forced himself to breathe deeply. He managed to stave off unconsciousness for the moment, and with one more breath, turned to face the dragon once more.

The dragon dropped to the ground at the base of the tree it had perched in, still far out of his reach. It took one step forward, then stopped, still eyeing him with those inscrutable golden eyes, and then moved its leg back, lowering its head to the ground, just as it had been when Haplo had first woken up.

Haplo was shaking, now, from terror as much as weakness. His heart still pounded in his chest, and darkness still crept at the edges of his vision, but now the initial adrenaline rush was fading. Unable to fight and unable to run: the spear he had summoned was a crutch, the only thing keeping him from collapsing again.

Slowly, deliberately, the dragon’s tail moved, the end of it dipping up and down, golden spikes catching the little light that existed in the clearing they found themselves in. It took Haplo a moment to register the sound of water splashing against the scales, and after that, the sound of a river running around them. His mouth seemed to grow drier at the very thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dog move. Nose to the ground, it moved away from the dragon, but toward the bank of the river.

Haplo called to it sharply, but the dog ignored him, eagerly lapping at the water. Haplo called out again, and once again the dog paid him no mind, its tail wagging unrepentantly.

All the while, the dragon watched, still and silent. Expectant, almost. For the first time, it occurred to Haplo that the dragon might not want to hurt him. Or at least, he thought darkly, not yet.

At first, stubborn defiance kept Haplo rooted, staring down the dragon. But pride didn’t cure the weakness in his limbs, and it couldn’t quench his thirst, either. It took all he had just to remain standing, and the dragon was still inexplicably motionless. Before long, he was forced to admit that there was only one real option available to him.

Haplo could almost feel the dragon’s golden eyes on him as he dragged himself to the edge of the river. The dog had just finished its drink. At Haplo’s glare, it only sat on its haunches, tail thumping against the ground happily.

The water looked fine, and the few cursory tests Haplo could manage only confirmed it. Haplo reached a hand into the cool water-- a hand that was clean, Haplo noted, rather than caked with dried blood, as it should have been-- and managed a few slow sips, each one a relief.

When he finished drinking, he turned to look at the dragon again. It hadn’t moved from its spot at the base of the tree, and it hadn’t stopped watching him, either.

What was it about this dragon? Haplo had never fought one before, but he'd seen and heard enough to know this was abnormal behavior. That must be its plan, to give him this spot of hope before tearing his heart out.

Haplo’s morbid curiosity piqued, tension increasing, the dragon began to move. Slowly, keeping its head low to the ground, the dragon crept toward the mouth of its cave. Not directly, though: it moved in a wide circle around Haplo and the dog, keeping the space between them, as if it were just as wary of them as Haplo was of the dragon. The very notion was ridiculous, considering the dragon could have ripped them to shreds with little difficulty.

The dragon re-entered its cave, and for a moment, Haplo wondered if that was that; could it be that the dragon was truly allowing him to leave? But then its nose popped out again, and the dragon emerged, dragging its tail behind it. Haplo’s eyes were drawn to the deliberate curl of the emerald-encrusted tail, and that was when he saw the fruit held securely in its grasp.

He blinked. Was he hallucinating? The dragon nudged its collection closer to him, then nudged it forward a little more with its nose, and backed far away, as if inviting him to fill the vacated space himself.

Haplo had no idea what to make of any of it. Was he seriously being offered food by a dragon? He stood, leaning most of his weight onto the spear. The creature’s eyes were still focused on him, waiting to see how he would react, like he was a wild, unpredictable animal that it was trying to coax into calmness.

He didn’t like any of this, not one bit. Tired and hungry and weak though he was, he was ready to leave this place far behind, dismiss it all as a delusion brought about by near-death.

Just as he had made his decision, the sky lit up brilliantly, followed an instant later by a startlingly powerful crack of thunder. The storm from earlier had not subsided, not entirely.

Haplo moved toward the dragon’s offering. He had no idea how one might interpret the facial expressions of a dragon, but to his eyes, the green dragon looked surprised. Haplo studied its large, glassy eyes for a second longer, and then he huffed at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, lowered himself to one knee, set down the spear he was using as a walking stick, and reached for a piece of fruit. Like the water, the food the dragon offered appeared completely normal. It tasted just as Haplo would have expected.

The dragon blinked slowly, giving Haplo the feeling that they had reached some understanding, though he wasn’t sure quite what it was. Slowly, it backed into its cave once more. Haplo stayed put for a few minutes, wondering if the dragon would come out again, but for now, it seemed, the dragon was content to leave him alone.

When he was certain the dragon wasn’t coming back, Haplo took a seat. He was still weak, and the rest was much-needed, as was the time to think. The dog returned to him, curling up at his side.

First things, first. He was alive. That was obvious enough, unless this really was some delusion he had created for himself. Cuts and scratches had vanished from his skin, and the blow he had taken to the head no longer pained him. He was clean, too, something that couldn’t have been done by a healing sleep, alone. No blood stains remained on his skin or his clothing. Hell, now that he bothered to check, it seemed even the tears in his clothing had been repaired.

The dragon-- this strange, green dragon-- had brought him here, but it didn’t seem particularly intent on keeping him. He hadn’t been harmed. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. He was free to roam, or at least he seemed to be. And either dragons ate more fruit than Haplo would have supposed, or else, this dragon had gone out of its way to collect food for him. Granted, he couldn’t be certain he wasn’t trapped until he actually tried to leave this place.

None of this made any sense. Dragons captured prey, toyed with it for their own amusement before devouring it. Haplo couldn’t shake the feeling he was being toyed with. Perhaps, instead of torturing him immediately, this dragon had decided to keep him as a pet until it decided he was no longer entertaining. Perhaps he was only being allowed to heal to make his slow death that much more interesting.

Whatever the dragon’s intentions, he was apparently going to be allowed to live, at least for the time being. Just another day in the Labyrinth.

The storm was growing stronger, the night darker, and he himself needed the rest before attempting any escape. He may as well stay, then.

In addition to the dragon’s offerings, Haplo managed to catch a few fish from the river, which he shared with the dog. He found a rocky crevice to serve as some shelter from the sharp wind. The cave would have been better, of course, but for obvious reasons, Haplo avoided getting too near its dark opening. He leaned back against the rock wall, and the dog sat with him, keeping watch.

Strangely, Haplo didn’t feel too worried about falling asleep here. After all, there was only one creature in the vicinity that might come to harm him, and being awake would be of little use if it did.

* * *

He woke up to thunder crashing. All around him, rain poured down heavily, and the wind roared. Haplo shivered at the cold, but he wasn’t wet, and the wind wasn’t nearly as cutting as it should have been. It didn’t take him long to understand why.

Above him, a canopy in the shape of a dragon wing had unfurled, protecting him from the elements. Sure enough,when Haplo looked to his side, there was the dragon, one wing outstretched, the other tucked in elegantly at its side. The dog was cautiously approaching it, sniffing at the end of its gold-spiked tail.

“Some guard dog you are,” Haplo muttered.

The dragon made a noise like a snort, making Haplo startle-- the dragon had been almost completely silent so far. After a few short seconds, he was able to relax. The creature regarded him, then moved again, this time in an awkward sort of sidestep, shuffling away from him and toward the cavern opening. It then glanced back at him expectantly.

It took Haplo a moment to understand. When he did, he pulled his knees in, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He didn’t know if the dragon understood his language, but the body language evidently made the point clear. The dragon made another noise, closer to a huff, but then it seemed to settle, still with one wing outstretched.

It wasn’t going to leave. The realization hit Haplo like a brick, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he was more frightened or bewildered. The dragon shifted, tucking its head underneath its other wing to keep its face dry, and Haplo’s emotions shifted immediately to the latter.

The dragon had left itself entirely vulnerable to him, now. Well, maybe not entirely: even in this position, Haplo would have to be lucky and quick to stand a chance of incapacitating it. But it was far from impossible, and the dragon must know that as well as he did.

Perhaps the most baffling part of it all was that Haplo wasn’t even sure if he wanted to kill it, anymore.

This was, by far, the strangest situation he’d ever found himself in.

The dragon was still as a statue, face still hidden beneath its wing. Haplo wondered if it minded the weather. Well, he certainly hadn’t asked it to do anything.

Still, about an hour later, when the creature shifted, turning its body around to raise its other wing, Haplo stood. He nodded his head toward the cavern, and the dragon made a noise that might have been either surprise or relief. It moved to enter its cave again, only this time, the dog followed it, and Haplo, hardly believing himself, followed the dog.

The dragon shook itself off from its own little corner, rather like the dog did, before nestling into the pile of furs and leaves and other debris that served as a bed. Haplo, on the other hand, stayed near the entrance. He sat against the cave wall, folding his arms. The runes on his skin glowed a dim blue, bright enough for him to watch the dog follow the dragon. It was close enough, now, to poke its nose against a broad leg. Haplo wanted to warn the dog away, but held himself back, curious. The dragon allowed the dog’s exploration, and then craned its long neck downward, and Haplo watched with amazement as the dragon nudged its nose right back against the dog’s.

This seemed to satisfy the dog, and it made its way back to Haplo’s side. They both fell asleep again, soon after.

This time, when Haplo woke up, it was morning. He sat up. The storm had passed, and the sky was light. The dragon glanced his way, acknowledging that he was awake, but otherwise it went about its business, stretching and grooming itself. Now that it was light, Haplo took a chance to look around the cavern. It was largely barren, aside from the dragon’s nest and some claw marks on the wall, but there was one feature of interest. Shoved awkwardly against the far end of the cave was a wooden shelf, the kind of crude thing that might be found in a Squatter camp. What’s more, it was holding what seemed to be several handwritten scrolls.

Haplo wondered at that. How had those ended up here? The claw marks on the wall began to carry an even more sinister meaning. Had a Patryn once lived in this cave?

Haplo turned his focus back to the dragon, whose eyes were fixed on the dog. The dog paced around it, sniffing curiously, just like it had the previous night. It barked to Haplo happily. _Come look at this thing!_

The dragon made a noise in its throat, or rather, a series of noises: high, vibrating, changing pitches. Haplo blinked, and suddenly, the dragon was the same size as the dog. The dog jumped, clearly as surprised as Haplo himself was, but it sniffed at the changed creature again and yipped excitedly, finding it to be the same creature. Suddenly, the enormous size of the dragon during its attack on the snogs made much more sense to Haplo.

He watched the two of them inspect and play with each other for a while longer. He stood, glad to find that his body had almost completely recovered, and walked toward the strange shelf, intending to examine the scrolls it held.

A tail appeared between him and his destination. The dragon had reverted to its previous size, staring at Haplo with piercing eyes. Haplo tensed, but the dragon didn’t move, and after a moment, it lowered its tail, making a low noise.

Haplo nodded, doing his best to keep any fear he felt out of his expression. “Alright,” he said, and he stepped back. “Those are yours.”

The dragon lowered its gaze then, but it stayed put. Haplo watched it, evaluating. Dragons were supposed to be intelligent, after all, but how intelligent was this one, exactly?

“Can you understand me?”

He felt a little ridiculous, talking to it, but then the dragon bowed its head. A clear nod.

Haplo shivered, unable to hold back a shallow, shuddering breath that betrayed his surprise. He cleared his throat, struggling to recollect himself. “You saved me.”

Another nod.

“Why?”

The dragon was silent for a moment. Then it cocked its head, making a reproachful sort of grumble. Haplo frowned, mentally chiding himself. A question like that was clearly beyond the dragon’s powers of speech. “I mean…” he tried. “You’re a dragon. Part of the Labyrinth.”

The dragon made another noise, shaking its head.

Haplo narrowed his eyes. “No?” he translated. “You’re not a dragon?” The creature repeated its previous noise, firm. “Not part of the Labyrinth,” Haplo corrected himself, and the dragon looked at him with what seemed to be agreement.

Well. That was certainly interesting, but Haplo had no idea what to make of it.

"Are there others like you?”

It was a total shot in the dark, but the dragon paused. Slowly, heavily, it shook its head.

Haplo wasn’t entirely certain what that meant, either, but the dragon didn’t seem to be able to elaborate. In any case, there was still one more thing he needed to know. “You don’t intend to hurt me.”

This time, the dragon didn’t hesitate before shaking its head, and it did so much more vigorously. It turned its head sideways, then sat again, resting its head on its front legs, much as it had when Haplo had first woken up here.

Haplo supposed he had his answer, though he still wasn’t quite sure he could believe it.

How could he possibly believe any of it was real? He walked out of the dragon’s cave and into the early morning light. He ate and drank again. He began preparing for the next leg of a journey that never ended. If he kept his hands busy and his movements mechanical, it almost felt normal.

The dragon’s gaze never left him, but it was far less threatening, now. In fact, it almost reminded him of the dog. When he had finished, he stood, taking a deep breath.  
“It’s about time for me to go,” he said. It was more of a question than anything else.

The dragon perked up, and Haplo wished he was better at reading emotion into the draconic features. He wondered, yet again, if this was where the trick was, if this was when the dragon finally attacked, refusing to allow him to escape.

But then the dragon nodded, slowly and heavily.

It almost seemed disappointed, and now Haplo wondered how long this dragon had been here. If it had ever done something like this, before. He could have asked.

“I don’t suppose you know the way to the next gate?” he said, instead. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was in relation to where the snogs had caught up to him, and he had run a long ways before that. Examining his surroundings hadn’t helped, much.

The dragon didn’t need long to consider. Stepping forward, it extended its neck, pointing the way. Haplo’s eyes followed the direction, already making mental calculations of the best route to take.

The dragon’s eyes were on him again. It was strange to say goodbye to a dragon, but at this point, it would almost be stranger not to. “Thanks,” he said, referring to the direction and a lot more, besides.

The dragon bowed its head, as near a goodbye as Haplo supposed he was likely to get. He walked out of the clearing, astonished all over again that somehow, he was walking out of a dragon’s lair, alive and well.

Behind him, the dog whined. Frowning, Haplo pivoted. “What is it?”

He scowled, annoyed to see the dog hadn’t made so much as a move to follow him. It didn’t want to leave its new friend behind, was that it? “There’s no point dithering around here,” he scolded. “We have to go on.”

The dog seemed to accept this, at least. It padded forward, if somewhat reluctantly, and the two of them finally began to make some progress, leaving the strange green dragon behind.

They made their way through the forest in roughly the direction it had given them, and sure enough, they soon reached a path. Unlikely as it still seemed, the dragon’s word was apparently good. It was almost too easy.

It _was_ too easy, and it wouldn’t leave Haplo’s mind. None of the past day made any sense, no matter how he thought of it. He wondered if he should have hung around, after all; maybe there were answers to be found, if he were only to keep looking. But the whole thing was too outlandish, and frankly, Haplo still wasn’t sure he hadn’t just dreamt up the entire ordeal. A dragon saving his life and letting him go free, painless as that.

Haplo traveled for hours like that, hardly paying attention to his surroundings. Being so near the dragon’s domain, still, there were very few signs of any creatures that could pose a threat, though more than once, the dog had to alert him to some dangerous part of the terrain they traveled through.

And then the dog barked out a warning far more urgent than the rest. Haplo spun around, just in time to see a familiar green blur pounce on top of a mottled brown shape that had been blending in with the surrounding trees. The momentum hurtled both creatures into the brush. Haplo heard a scuffle, a desperate, angry yowl, and then silence.

The dragon flew out of the undergrowth, its teeth and claws stained red.

Haplo appraised the scene, unsure how he should react. The dragon’s eyes met his. Searching for something, though Haplo couldn’t have said what. In the end, he turned on his heel, walking forward.

“I had it under control,” he said airily. Behind him, the dragon made a noise that Haplo had heard from it once before. Amusement, he tentatively classified it.

He heard the beat of a strong set of wings and felt a puff of breeze, and then the dragon had caught up to him, landing closer to Haplo than it had ever ventured during his short time as a guest in its lair. It had changed size, again; it now stood at roughly Haplo’s same height. From here, Haplo could see that the eyes he had initially perceived as pure gold were actually flecked with vivid blue around the dark pupils.

He stopped, crossing his arms, raising his eyebrows. “You’re following me around too, now, huh?”

The dragon let out a chirp that Haplo could only interpret as an affirmation. He sighed, wondering how he-- Haplo: single, alone-- had managed to pick up yet another stray, and this one a dragon, to boot.

But on the other hand, hadn’t he just been thinking of all the questions that might have been left unanswered?

The dragon waited patiently for his response. “Well,” he finally said, “you should be more useful than the dog, at least.”

The dragon let out a pleased trill-- or at least, Haplo thought it sounded pleased. He wondered if he would get better at interpreting the dragon’s body language, in time. It almost looked wistful as it looked back in the direction of its cave and its few contents, but who could say? Still, the dragon followed him when he continued on his path, the dog falling into step next to it, and as bizarre as the whole setup was, Haplo couldn’t help feeling that there was something fitting about it, all the same.


	2. Debris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Haplo, it has never been more difficult to distract himself from his own discontentment. For the dragon, it has never been easier. Time passes by uneventfully for the inhabitants of the Nexus; at least, until it doesn't.

Parchment rustled as the Patryn turned to the next page in the stack he was working on. At his feet sat a dog, who waited patiently for its master to finish his task and turn his attention back to it.

It didn’t seem like that would be happening any time soon. The Patryn’s dark eyes skimmed over the page dispassionately, and, not finding anything that interested him, turned a few more before settling on a particular paragraph. Draped across his shoulders, looking rather like a dark green scarf, was another observer. Far more interested in the Patryn’s doings than the dog, its golden eyes were fixed on the sheets of parchment in front of them.

The dragon sighed inwardly as his Patryn once again moved on to the next pages. He was a slower reader in this language, which worked to the dragon’s advantage, but he had the annoying tendency of skipping over large sections of text as he scanned for only what information he deemed useful. If the dragon had been more daring, he might have returned to these archives in the dead of night, perused the books himself, but the risks of being discovered and drawing attention to himself were greater than any reward he imagined he might find in the pages.

He much preferred to be overlooked. His default size these days was as small as he had ever managed to make this body: about the size of a large falcon, with his tail and neck adding a bit more length on either end. The perfect size to navigate the narrow hallways of the buildings in the Nexus, the perfect size so as to appear as non-threatening and as unnoticeable as it was possible for a friendly dragon to be. And, unbeknownst to the Patryns-- with the possible exception of one, who might or might not have come to suspect what his companion was doing-- it was the perfect size to rest across the Patryn’s neck and the rickety chair he sat on and read over his shoulder.

The archive was a nice place, well-lit and well-stocked, if not well-frequented. Every book in the place had been skimmed over at one point or another, since the Patryns had discovered this place. Still, large sections of them hadn’t been touched for quite some time. On one shelf sat the remains of a glass lantern, now just a pile of shards gathering a thick layer of dust along with most everything else in the room.

It was the dragon’s favorite place in the Nexus. Even with the dust and his Patryn’s sporadic reading, he enjoyed the time they spent here. It was a decent amount of time, too; one of the first tasks Haplo had taken upon himself once in the Nexus was to learn to read the handwritten books that had been found there. His so-called lord had taught him well: one of the few points the dragon considered in his favor.

It was as close to peace as the dragon had found, these years in the Nexus. Certainly it was as close as it seemed likely for him to ever achieve. The Nexus was calm, but it was never still, granting the dragon a clear and focused mind. And though the dragon was an oddity, at least he was an oddity that had been quietly accepted by the Patryns.

None of them ever approached him, of course. Since they’d first arrived here and Xar’s skeptical examinations had failed to uncover anything of the dragon’s nature or origins-- to his obvious displeasure-- he had been largely ignored as an aberration. Inexplicable, but ultimately harmless. Still, only his Patryn and the dog were at all comfortable with him near.

Even so, the dragon wasn’t lonely. True, he had little else besides the dog and its master to keep him company, and conversation between them was limited, to put it mildly, but even so. Compared to that dark, barren cave in the Labyrinth, or a room of nothing but blinding white light and crushing regret, or a single set of clumsy footsteps ringing painfully in his ears despite their softness--

 _No._ The dragon rejected these thoughts, lest they consume him.

The point was, this existence was much better, and he had his Patryn to thank for that. Haplo, who stumbled into him, whose desperate voice had reached his ears, who had allowed him to save his life. His first real contact with an intelligent creature since blinding white light, another voice, this one softer, this one he had failed to protect--

Again, he forced himself to cast it aside. These were not the dragon’s thoughts.

The dragon’s thoughts had slowed to almost a blur, then. It had been there for too long; though its senses were sharp, it was difficult to keep focus. It fell into patterns: hunt, eat, sleep, groom, fight. Its sense of time seemed to slip away as the scrolls in the corner collected dust.

And then, cutting through it all, there was a disturbance. It sensed the evil creatures that had wandered too close, and the dragon was riding on pure instinct, defending its territory, keeping the malevolence of this place at bay the only way it remembered how, and then there was that voice, like a bolt out of the blue…

It frightened him, now, how close he had come to losing himself entirely. The instincts that had taken over, the ease with which he ripped and killed. The instincts that saved his life many times in the Labyrinth, certainly, and he would not regret destroying the evil-- the pure, putrid evil-- that existed in the death maze.

But the lack of control, almost a lack of cognizance entirely. There were no distinct thoughts, only sheer desperation, wild and reckless, driving him to the person that voice _must_ belong to.

That was what frightened the dragon most as he watched the injured, unconscious Patryn mangled in the nondescript shelter of his cave. Thinking what he might have done, what he might have become: his own personal contribution to the terrible mistakes that had led them all here, in the first place. It made him sick with guilt.

The Patryn didn’t know it then, and probably still didn’t, but he had saved the dragon’s life that day as surely as the dragon had saved his. Solitude was a suffocating kind of darkness. The Patryn had been a spark of light. His presence-- and that of the curious dog he kept-- reinvigorated the dragon, giving him something to connect to.

It seemed only reasonable for the dragon to stay by his side, protecting him from harm. A life for a life. Even so, he had struggled to make the choice. It would have been so easy to stay in the domain he had created for himself. The dragon didn’t have to struggle, there. It merely existed, without having to fight, or make mistakes, or face the crushing weight of failure and regret on its shoulders.

But the Patryn had been right, though he’d been trying to convince the dog rather than the dragon. There was no meaning in sitting still, waiting to sink back into the haze of instinct. And there was a chance, however minute, that the dragon could get this right, if nothing else in his life.

It was that flicker of hope that spurred the dragon onward. And now, it seemed, they had both earned peace in the form of the Nexus, this paradise at the end of the Labyrinth.

Something like peace, that is. The dragon could never have forgotten the Labyrinth, the harm it was still inflicting on the innocent Patryns that remained trapped. Thinking of it overwhelmed him with a guilt that could not be suppressed. He knew it was selfish, to stay here. The self-proclaimed Lord of the Nexus went back inside, fighting to save Patryns’ lives just as he’d once saved Haplo’s, but then, he was strong, whatever else he was. And the dragon, for all that the Patryns around him presumed, simply was not.

And the longer they stayed, the more the dragon could see that his Patryn had not found his happiness, either. Where the dragon only had Haplo and the dog for company, Haplo had a whole city of his kinsmen, and yet he hardly made any more contact with them than the dragon did. The sole exception was the man he called his lord.

The other Patryns, from what little the dragon could tell from his far-off vantage point, were a serious lot. They couldn’t exactly be described as friendly. But still, the dragon could hear them conversing from the other side of the Nexus. From a distance, he saw them working in groups. Rarely, he caught sight of a smile. He didn’t think he had ever caught such a smile from Haplo.

The city had changed, even in the few years they had been here. Five years, for example, was time to watch children grow into young adults. The dragon knew most of them by sight and smell, if not by name. There were even a few children who had been born here, never knowing the Labyrinth at all. One such child had barely been walking when the dragon and his Patryn had first walked through the Final Gate. She was an older sister, now, and the dragon often spotted her helping take care of other, smaller children who had been born since.

Once, while walking around at the outskirts of the city, the dog had approached this girl, letting her pat its dark head as it nuzzled against her. At the time, the dog’s master had been distracted with other matters, but when he turned to see her crouched near the dog, a slight smile on her face, his own expression had hardened. He’d turned away, his frown carving even deeper into his features, and then they had gone right back to the Halls of the Sartan and he’d thrown himself into yet another volume.

His Patryn was desperately unhappy, that much was clear to the dragon, if perhaps not to Haplo himself. The dragon worried for him, certainly. Over the years, his role of protector had shifted to that of a caretaker, poking at him to rest, to take care of himself. But there was, after all, only so much a dragon could do, especially when dealing with a creature as stubborn as a Patryn.

The dragon was distracted from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps against the wood floor and a voice as familiar as it was unwelcome.

“Haplo. I thought I would find you here.”

At the sound of his name, the Patryn turned away from his book, standing up swiftly. The dragon, not quite prepared for the movement, narrowly avoided tumbling down from the man’s shoulders. As the dragon regained his balance, Haplo spoke. “Is there something you need, my Lord?”

The other man nodded. “There is.”

Haplo waited for him to continue, expectant. Xar pursed his lips, considering his words carefully before he spoke them quietly. Too quietly, considering the severity of their implications.

The Patryns’ time in the Nexus, like their imprisonment in the Labyrinth, was only ever meant to be temporary. Xar had told Haplo this, years ago: that they would not be held by the Nexus any more than they had been held by the Labyrinth. Someday, they would leave the Nexus behind, take back the world that their enemies had ripped apart to keep out of their hands.

The dragon had known all this, but it had always seemed so far in the future, a hypothetical, never quite real. The Nexus, after all, was so detached from the rest of the world. Surely there would never come a day when any of them would actually contemplate leaving.

But now, somehow, that day was on the horizon. By the time Xar had reached the crux of the conversation, he no longer needed to say it out loud: it was time for the Patryns to fully escape their prison.

And if they were to wage war, the Patryns would need information, much more information on the Sundered worlds than was available in the Halls of the Sartan.

“I want you to be my emissary to these other worlds, Haplo.” Xar’s voice, soft as it was, echoed through the room. “Be my eyes and ears. Learn what has become of each world. Learn what has become of the Sartan.”

If the dragon hadn’t been listening then, that would have instantly caught his attention. As it was, if Xar hadn’t been determinedly avoiding looking his way, he might have noticed golden eyes narrowing, muscles tensing. Not that he would have known how to interpret that, for why would talk of the Sartan make a dragon so apprehensive?

Haplo might have had a better chance of noticing his discomfort, if the man hadn’t been so intensely focused on his lord’s words. He was quiet for only a short moment. “When will I be leaving?”

Xar smiled, pleased with Haplo’s loyalty even if he was unsurprised by it. “You will need time to prepare, of course. And there are many details I will need to discuss with you. We’ve spent too many years as prisoners to risk rushing things, now. But soon.”

Haplo nodded. At his feet, the dog looked up at them, as if noticing for the first time that something interesting was happening.

Xar walked past the three of them until he stood in front of one of the shelves. Without pausing, he pulled a book from its place, disturbing the remnants of the lantern there as he did so. Glass pieces clacked together softly, sending dust particles floating slowly into the beams of light that streamed through the windows. “For now,” he said, “I’d like you to turn your attention to Arianus.”

The dragon’s heart seemed to fall right out of his chest. Senses that were usually so sharp seemed to blur together; sight, sound, and smell all distorting, drowning him in a dull buzz, light unweaving itself around him.

_Arianus._

Xar turned to face them again, still oblivious to the dragon’s distress. He set the book he’d taken on the table with a heavy thud, and Haplo leaned over it, the conversation unintelligible through the thick haze that had seized the dragon’s mind at the sound of that one word.

 _Floating islands, streams of light sparkling against ice crystals above, the constant storm brewing below._ Long-discarded images returned to him in an instant, and as bitter as they were, he was still drawn to them, latching onto the comfort of their familiarity. The images paradoxically soothed the very ache they created within him.

It had been so long. The dragon, by now, could almost pretend any passing mentions of the World of Sky in the books they read were merely references to some fantasy world. A place too far away to touch him, to touch any of them.

But now Haplo would travel to Arianus. The dragon knew, more or less, what he would find there. And what he would not find, no matter how many years he searched, useless.

So, so completely useless.

And from what Xar had said, Haplo’s journey would not end in Arianus. No, that would be only the beginning. Which left the dragon with one question: Did he dare go back? Could he possibly?

_A single set of footsteps echoed in his ears, his heart wringing with sorrow. Perfectly straight lines, perfectly clear glass. Even after all this time, there was no dust caking over the material: this room had been carefully constructed so that not even dust would disturb its inhabitants, no matter how long they rested unattended._

The dragon shuddered. Haplo, sensing his disturbance at least peripherally, idly ran his fingers over the scales on his tail, still draped over his left shoulder.

“Seems we’re going on a journey,” he said softly, his expression thoughtful. Already making plans, listening carefully to Xar’s instructions. For the briefest moment, though, the touch and the words broke through the barrier of his thoughts, existing in the same space as those haunting footsteps.

For one fleeting second, he was no longer alone in those empty halls. The thought of it tugged at him acutely, though he knew it was only that, a thought. It didn’t seem to matter. The illusion, however ephemeral, was comfort enough. And so the dragon’s decision was made, or rather, it had been made years ago: wherever Haplo decided to go, he would follow. For both of their sakes.

Haplo didn’t know it, of course. For all his cleverness, he really didn’t know much of anything, and the dragon was grateful for it. If his Patryn ever discovered the full truth…

He cast that thought aside along with the rest of them, piling them up like the sharp-edged shards of lantern glass. Settled himself around the Patryn’s shoulders, tail curling around one arm, and rested his head. Watched the dust particles shifting through rays of light as Haplo began his preparations, reading words of a land that did not belong to the dragon, no, not anymore.


	3. Shiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haplo and the dragon discover the wonders of Arianus.

Arianus was a restless place, or at least the parts of it that Haplo had seen so far were. Even here, alone in the room Limbeck and Jarre had provided for him, he was bombarded with noise, both natural and mechanical. It was a bit strange, after so many years in the relative silence of the Nexus. Fortunately, it would take much more than a bit of noise to disturb Haplo as he regarded his current situation and the task before him.

Limbeck and Jarre had been fine hosts-- as fine of hosts as they could be when they were using Haplo as a pawn in their revolution. Not that Haplo particularly minded that, considering it was all a part of his own plan.

The two of them ensured everything was taken care of for him, so all he had to do was show up and speak. It was remarkably easy to do so, despite his lack of experience, for the story he presented was the truth, as was the burning hatred for those who had oppressed a proud race for so long. All he had to do was spread that flame to the Gegs.

Jarre was pleased with his effect on her people, that was clear enough. Limbeck, however, seemed less certain. It was a dilemma that he faced: a revolutionary, squeamish at the thought of revolution. But the dwarves would go to war; that had been determined even before Haplo’s arrival. After everything the humans and elves had put them through, they’d be stupid not to. And Haplo wasn’t sorry to push them along.

That still left the rest of Arianus. At some point, he would need to find out what exactly the elves and humans were up to. And, most importantly, the Sartan. He hadn’t seen or heard evidence of any, yet, from the dwarves, but then, the dwarves didn’t seem to know much of anything beyond the machine they slaved over.

So, the Sartan. Where were they? He’d spent a long time here and had barely even an idea of where to start looking.

It was a conundrum he would have to ponder later, for just then an insistent pounding on the door of his room reached his ears, loud even over the sound of the Kicksey-winsey. His brief time to himself was over, for the moment.

He exhaled deeply, then sat up, grateful that the ceiling here was high enough to keep him from having to crouch. The dog hopped off the bed, following him to the door, where Jarre was waiting for him, a thin stack of papers-- probably more of Limbeck’s drafts-- in her hands.

“There you are,” she said briskly. “You’re ready for tomorrow?”

Haplo raised his eyebrows. “It’s just the same as usual, isn’t it?”

“For you, maybe.” Jarre let out a deep sigh, more for emphasis than out of any actual exasperation she felt. “I’m glad that we’re making progress, of course, but the more momentum we gain, the more there is for me to worry about.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jarre shook her head, apparently remembering why she had come to find him in the first place. “Speaking of which,” she said, eyes narrowing sternly. “That dragon of yours has been harassing Gegs near the door to the Outside.”

Ah, yes. The dragon. “Harassing?” Haplo asked, affecting mild concern.

Jarre rolled her eyes, looking back down at the papers in her hands. “Oh, it’s not hurting anything. They just don’t like it to be so close.” She scowled, making her disdain for such cowardly Gegs perfectly clear. Unlike most of the others, Jarre’s fear of the dragon hadn’t lasted very long. Before the end of the first week, she was scolding it as easily as she scolded Haplo or any of the others, often tempered by a pat to its head as she passed.

“I see,” he said. “It probably doesn’t like being cooped up for so long. I’ll take care of it,” he offered, not minding the excuse to leave the headquarters for a while.

“Good.” Satisfied that their conversation was over, Jarre looked back down at the papers in front of her, already immersed in her next task. He squeezed past her through the narrow halls of the WUPP headquarters, the dog nudging its way between their legs.

The dragon had been… out of sorts, since leaving the Nexus. Haplo suspected that going through Death’s Gate disagreed with it, or else the endless cacophony of the Kicksey-winsey. Usually, it was attentive to the point of hindrance, always alert, often silently nagging at him to eat or sleep. Since they’d left the Nexus, though, the dragon had alternated between two states. The first was of deathly stillness, muscles tense and barely responsive to anything around it. The second was unusually agitated, twitching and jumpy, unable to remain still, and yet still not seeming to have the least bit of concentration on its surroundings.

It was completely unlike anything Haplo had seen from his dragon, even back in the Labyrinth, and he had no idea what to make of it. He’d wondered, at first, if it was the mensch the creature had an aversion to, but past the initial shock of first meeting, it had gotten along fine with their hosts. In the end, he could come to no definitive conclusions, but then the dragon’s erratic behavior wasn’t harming anything, and so Haplo hadn’t given it too much thought, leaving it alone for the most part. It wasn’t exactly much help at this point in the proceedings, after all.

As Jarre had told him, Haplo found the dragon sitting near the gates of the city that led to the outside world. It noticed him long before he had reached it, and it shifted expectantly at the sight, raising its head to watch his approach. It had taken up a resting posture, and in fact seemed to be behaving much more normally at the moment than it had been in recent days. From what Jarre had said, Haplo had pictured the dragon terrifying the dwarves in one of its agitated states. Apparently not.

Ordinarily, few Gegs ventured near the doorway leading outside. Now, a few had approached, though they were certain to stay far back from the dragon, despite its stillness or the fact that it barely came up to their waists. The dragon cast its eyes to a few passersby, who looked at him with a mix of fear and intrigue, a look Haplo recognized from weeks of playing not-god; evidently, curiosity hadn’t yet been stamped out of the dwarves completely. Then the dragon turned back to Haplo, half-guilty, half-imploring, before settling its gaze to the gate.

“You want to go out?” It was hardly a difficult deduction.

The dragon brightened at his words, brimming with approval. Haplo glanced outside through a clear pane in the door. This area of Drevlin was experiencing one of its rare moments of dry weather, it seemed; although raindrops still dribbled to the earth, the cloud blanket above them had thinned, allowing light to break through the gray cover in a few beams. Haplo guessed that the lull wouldn’t last more than an hour or so.

He felt the Gegs' eyes on him as he opened the door, stepping out of city and into a wasteland of mud and rock. Despite the near-constant rain, or perhaps because of it, Drevlin’s natural landscape was almost completely barren, rocky terrain littered with crevices and random piles of material discarded by the machine. He heard the dog and the dragon follow him out, and before long the dragon was in front of him, flying a wide circle around his head before landing a ways ahead. The dog barked, gambolling after the dragon, who was now flying out farther, stretching its wings while the dog gave merry chase. Always it would circle back to Haplo-- who was having no trouble navigating the terrain at his own pace, enjoying the solitude-- before flying off again.

“There, are you happy now?” Haplo asked after a few repetitions of this. “Scared those dwarves half to death, from what Jarre said,” he added, catching the dragon’s eyes.

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected something like that, though; Xar himself had brought up the potential complications the dragon's accompaniment might cause.

“I doubt your dog would attract any undue attention on Arianus. A dragon, however…” He’d cast the dragon perched on Haplo’s shoulders a measured look. The dragon had stared straight back, undaunted. “Well,” he’d continued, turning back to Haplo. “I suppose it may have its uses. I will trust your judgement in the matter.”

“I understand your concern,” Haplo had replied, after giving it some thought. “It does know how to stay out of sight when needs be. And as you say, it will be useful to have around.”

Xar had nodded, eyes fixed with the dragon’s, expression carefully blank.

And so Haplo had originally intended to keep the dragon out of sight, once they reached Arianus. Of course, that idea had fallen apart almost instantly; after his ship crash-landed, it was the dragon that dug him out of the rubble, spotted a very terrified Limbeck stranded with them, and managed to pull the both of them out of Terrel Fen and directly to the city, much to the Gegs’ collective astonishment. The dog soon joined them, there, though none of them could recall seeing it in the dragon’s clutches.

The Gegs had heard of dragons, but hadn’t ever seen a living one. From what Haplo had managed to gather, the elves’ ships took on the same general shape, though, and thus it was easily accepted that a pet dragon was just the kind of thing a god might reasonably be expected to have. Haplo’s dragon had fit in well enough ever since, giving the Gegs a wide berth and causing no issues other than the mystery of its perpetual nervousness, an issue which seemed to have passed along with the Maelstrom. Perhaps that was all it had been, after all.

Now that they were outdoors, the dragon had only become more relaxed; it took no offense to Haplo’s light rebukes, only glancing at his shaking head and crossed arms with something like amusement before going back to sunning itself in the few beams that reached the Low Realm through the drizzle. Haplo had to admit it felt nice, after spending so much time indoors.

The dragon continued its stretching, carefully observing the landscape around them, craning its neck upwards to the clouds. After another moment, it turned to Haplo, golden eyes bright. A familiar humming reached his ears, seeming to resonate through his entire body as the dragon made a few slight, elegant movements, and Haplo was unsurprised to see that it was now much larger, standing just taller than he himself did. Large enough to mount, Haplo realized, and sure enough, it looked at Haplo, cocked its large, glittering head, and lowered its body, positioning itself in clear invitation.

“You want to fly?” Haplo asked, a bit taken aback.

It was something they’d done before, but not often. The first time had been not long after the dragon first started following him around. There had been a river rushing between him and the next gate. He might have found a way across, but it would have been difficult, cost him time and energy. The dragon hadn’t had the patience for that; for a moment, Haplo thought it might pluck him up in its claws and drag him over the waters. It had been a shock, then, to see the dragon sit just like this, allowing him to climb on its back.

It was a bit difficult, trying to perch on top of the creature between its sharp barbs, and even more difficult to keep his balance, but Haplo immensely preferred it to the alternative.

They’d tried it a few times, after that, but only sparingly, for the Labyrinth didn’t take kindly to cheating it by flying straight through. It left them too exposed, and the Labyrinth would always send some kind of flying beast after them before long. Traveling by foot was slower, but ultimately safer.

Later on, in the Nexus, there had been a few more times. The dragon, like Haplo, never seemed to like drawing too much attention to itself: just another curiosity among the dragon’s multitudes.

But it did seem to enjoy flying in the safety of the Nexus. Haplo would watch it fly around in all kinds of maneuvers, some graceful, others more elaborate, almost experimental. And sometimes the dragon would offer to let Haplo join it in the air.

They were careful, at first. Haplo was still learning how to sit, where to grab so he wasn’t hurt by the dragon’s barbs, how tightly to hold on. The dragon, meanwhile, began to adjust its movements, small changes that allowed Haplo to stay steady. It was interesting, riding dragonback, and certainly diverting, but most importantly, Haplo had known it would prove to be a useful skill.

For example, the dragon would be a great means to perform a bit of reconnaissance.

“We can’t be away for long,” Haplo warned the dragon, stepping forward, resting one hand on the scales of its neck, warm to the touch. He heard a chirp in response, and when he had settled on the creature’s back, he felt it push off against the muddy ground.

The dog leapt up eagerly, and even when they had lifted too high to try to reach, Haplo saw it down below, running excited circles around the place where they had taken off. Soon, the dog was nothing more than a small speck. They had risen high enough to overlook the section of the great machine that made up Wombe-- all the individual pieces working together, though Haplo still hadn’t been able to determine what purpose the Sartan had intended for it all. Unfortunately, seeing it from this angle didn’t help, much.

The dragon circled over the city, gliding smoothly and without direction. No fancy flying, today; it seemed to be examining the buildings and the machine as intently as Haplo was. Slowly, the dragon led them up in higher circles, the infrastructure below them becoming smaller and smaller.

Haplo tightened his grip. The dragon had never actually taken him up this high, before: above the thinning blanket of cloud cover and the gray smokestacks produced by the Kicksey-winsey. Beneath them, the massive piles of discarded material became nothing more than grey and black speckles on the red-brown mud, the dog much too far away for him to make out. He knew there was no danger, but even so, his heart pounded.

He was about to shout over the wind that they should probably head back down, soon, when the dragon craned its neck upward. Haplo followed suit, and for the first time, he saw the continents above them, drifting in the air, and the words escaped his mind.

It was one thing to know in theory of the islands hidden behind the thick clouds of the maelstrom. It was something else entirely to see for himself the huge masses of land suspended in midair, looming over everything. The underside of the lands sloped heavily downward, and it seemed impossible that they didn’t simply fall right out of the sky, crushing the dwarves below. Scattered about were smaller masses, hovering pieces of coralite drifting just off the main continents.

While Haplo was preoccupied with this new sight, the dragon continued its climb ever higher. By the time Haplo thought to notice their process, they had risen to the same height as some of the smallest, low-hanging islands. One last, powerful wingbeat later, the dragon began to glide toward one such island, touching down gracefully and bowing down for Haplo to dismount.

“Island” was perhaps a generous title for the piece of land that the dragon had chosen. It was hardly more than a chunk of rock and dirt with a vaguely level top side; most likely, it had broken off the underside of one of the main continents. Standing near its center, Haplo couldn’t have taken more than five paces in any direction without falling right off the edge. Their extra weight alone was enough to cause the whole thing to begin dipping downward, not fast enough to worry Haplo, but enough that he could mark their lazy descent by watching the other islands climb higher by comparison.

Cautiously, Haplo slid off the dragon’s back, patting a hand against the scales of its neck as he looked outward. He was glad to note that he was more or less used to the height, now, though he was sure to keep away from the edge, lest he throw their little rock off balance entirely.

Haplo let out a low whistle. “That is something, isn’t it?”

Below them, the Maelstrom was a dark swirl of clouds brightened with an occasional flash of lightning. Above them circled the magnificent continents. All around them was a perfectly blue sky, iridescent light glimmering off the particles of water vapor that hung in the air. None of it was still; the rock on which they stood was still slowly sinking, the wind continually stirred the storm below and the continents above. But here there was silence, a blessed change after weeks of the Kicksey-winsey’s clanging in his ears, the boom of thunder that rarely faltered. A few minutes passed that way, letting it all soak in, before Haplo even realized it.

When he did, he frowned, sternly reminded himself what he had come up here for, and redirected his attention to the land above and below them, trying to commit them to memory. Probably a futile endeavor, he eventually admitted to himself, considering how much they must drift even over short periods of time.

Beside him, the dragon stood, apparently enraptured: it was still, eyes scanning over the scene before them, but it was a stillness without the same tension it had held in recent days.

“We should go,” Haplo said, patting its neck once more. “I don’t fancy trying to fly back down through that storm.” Though they might return soon, once Haplo determined it was time to leave the Gegs to their own devices. The dragon would certainly provide a convenient way to explore the other realms.

It was unresponsive to his words for a moment, still looking out at the world. Then, at last, it turned back to Haplo, the flecks of color in its gold irises glinting in the light. Sufficiently rested from their short break, it allowed him to mount it once again, extended its wings, and leapt ahead, straight into blue sky.

The journey up had been slow, languorous. The way down was entirely the opposite; the dragon dove down at a sharp angle, and frigid wind smacked against Haplo, forcing him to lean far forward, his chest almost touching the emerald scales beneath him. A thick layer of gray raced up to meet them, and it was exhilarating, the speed, wind roaring in his ears as they plunged down into the thickening clouds. By the time they reached the ground, Haplo was drenched, kept warm not from the power of his runes, but by the thrill still coursing through his veins. The dog was there to meet them on the ground, pleased as always to see them, not bothered in the least by the rain and wind that was beginning to pick up again.

By the time they made it back to WUPP headquarters, it was growing dark. “There you are!” Jarre exclaimed. “We were about to go out looking for you.”

“Sorry. I got a little bit carried away,” Haplo replied, sending her an easy smile.

“A little bit,” she echoed incredulously, eyes shifting pointedly from him to the dog, who was happily shaking itself dry. The dragon, now returned to its regular size and perch on Haplo’s shoulder, was the only one of the three not soaking wet, and it met her eyes with a look that might have been an apology.

Jarre closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Well, you had better get some rest, then. Tomorrow will be busy.” She went on to list the various events that were planned while Haplo, still dripping, listened politely to the schedule he must have heard a dozen times, already. At last, he was able to excuse himself to bed, drying himself off and carefully double checking that the coverings on his hands held secure before settling back. The dragon followed Haplo, this time, curling up on the floor beside the bed, where the dog joined it shortly.

* * *

Arianus was both better and worse than the dragon had feared.

The nightmares, for one. They had returned, and with a vengeance, leaving him trembling like a leaf. Endless grief, isolation, devastation, despair, all the images he had tried so hard to banish away. _I don’t_ _want_ _any of this_ , he would have cried, if he’d had a voice. _None of these are mine! Not again, never again._

But there was no way to avoid them, anymore, for every banging sound of the Kicksey-winsey was a battering ram against his mind, every familiar sight an assault on his carefully built defenses, all of it threatening to release the memories and pain and weakness he had so carefully buried deep inside himself. He could hardly think, could hardly pay attention to what was going on around him, with his mind wrestling against itself like this. A memory slipped from his grasp, causing a flood of panic as he gripped tighter, desperate to maintain control, more memories slipping out from between his fingers as he did so. He could no more hold it all in perfect stillness than he could have stopped the motion of the continents.

But the memories forcing their way through the dragon’s firm grasp were multifaceted things. If he examined them directly, they burned him, blinded him, stabbed him with sorrow as he was forced to remember all that had been lost. Even so… not all the memories were vicious. Some were gentle, flitting at the edge of his consciousness: small, whispering reminders that there had been a time when this place had been one of comfort, of peace, of beauty.

Floating islands, streams of light sparkling against ice crystals above, the constant storm brewing below. It was different, to see Arianus from this perspective, to feel the strong winds of the Maelstrom beneath his wings, but the feelings it invoked were familiar, as well: admiration, awe, the pleasure of sharing it all with someone close to him. He had needed that quiet, a chance to let everything rest. A chance to find some tranquility, if only for a moment.

The Low Realm, after all, was nothing but excitement.

The dragon saw the Gegs embroiled in their conflict for freedom, and he saw Haplo stoking it on. He hadn’t given it as much thought, before, so absorbed in a conflict all his own. Now, though, he was able to think about it all much more clearly.

To purposefully create chaos in a peaceful world… the dragon loathed the task that Xar had given his Patryn. Even so, he couldn’t protest the Gegs’ revolution. They deserved their freedom, after all. And really, who was he to protest Xar’s plan, after it was their own that had failed, leaving the Gegs in this position to begin with?

No, even if he had disagreed, he took comfort in knowing it wasn’t the dragon’s place to interfere.

* * *

It wasn’t long after their flight that things picked up again. He heard Jarre’s discussion of the new gods that had apparently been discovered, and was glad to join their investigation.

New gods. Elves, he tentatively guessed, here to reaffirm their hold over the Gegs? The thought saddened him, but he found he wanted to see it, wanted to know for certain what had become of this world in his absence.

He followed Haplo and the dwarves beneath the tunnels, listening carefully for any sign of danger. When Haplo ascended the ladder into the Factree, he weaved between stubby legs, making his way to the base of the ladder, where the dog sat with its head craned up to follow its master, tongue hanging out of its mouth as it panted.

His senses were sharp enough to hear not only Haplo’s soft words, but the two new voices that replied to it: one high and shrill, the other lower, gruff. Speaking human, not elven, as the dragon would have suspected. Limbeck followed Haplo up shortly thereafter, to Haplo’s clear displeasure. Deciding he may as well join them, the dragon flew up towards the opening, tucking his wings in at just the right moment to fly through without grazing his wings.

Immediately, his vision was assaulted by a statue, larger than he remembered, taking up most of the space in the room. His muscles spasmed, his heart lurched in his chest. He looked away, managed a slightly clumsy landing, and, struggling to recover from the nasty shock, he turned to examine these new characters, instead: a tow-headed little human boy and a tall, grizzly man whose appearance and overall manner reminded the dragon a bit of some of their neighbors in the Nexus.

The man led the conversation, he and Haplo exchanging words while Limbeck watched on with great interest. The boy, meanwhile, seemed far more interested in the dragon, eyes widened in innocent curiosity. Displaying almost none of the initial fear the dragon had come to expect from the Gegs, he came closer, cautiously reaching out to pat it on the head.

When the boy had done that, he beamed brightly, swiveling around and interrupting the man’s conversation with eager wonderment. The man-- Hugh, the boy called him-- showed little outward interest, though his eyes did linger on the dragon for a second before turning back to Haplo. The dragon tried to pay attention as well, distracted as he was by this child’s attentions.

And then, just when things seemed to be going so well, the dragon heard a few things at the same time. First: Jarre and her followers, climbing up the ladder themselves. Second, and far more worrisome, were sounds from down the hall, toward the main entrance. Guards, Hugh realized a second later, and then Haplo was saying something about a riot and before the dragon realized it, their little room was flooded with dwarves, two waves of them crashing against each other, separating the dragon from his companions.

The dragon could hardly see anything, couldn’t even get to his feet without being knocked aside by the bodies that towered over them. He tried to take to the air, but there was no room to spread his wings, and he was only tossed about further, disoriented and now having entirely lost track of Haplo and the others. Thrown against some solid object, he heard a noise escape his throat, high-pitched and familiar, but no, he couldn’t change size here, not without crushing the dwarves all around him. The note rang out, immediately lost in the chaos to all but the dragon, with its sharp senses. He heard the sound, saw the blows being struck, the blood shed by the once-peaceful dwarves of Arianus, and then he felt the stone beneath him, the feet of that daunting statue pressing almost painfully into his ribcage, and, most of all, he felt his own desperation to avoid being trampled.

Magic was more difficult in the dragon’s shape. Over the years, he had taught himself how to do simple things, like changing his size, but he certainly couldn’t manage anything too complicated. The doorway, however, was only intended to keep the mensch out. It required only the simplest of spells, and so he had opened the door and practically fallen into it before he realized what he was doing.

He sensed someone else’s presence a second before the door closed. The sound of chaos outside was muffled almost entirely, and even the dragon’s senses only barely registered the eternal cacophony created by the great machine.

In an instant, he was swallowed in pitch-blackness. In another instant, he was overcome with dread. Cut off from the outside, from the battle and from Haplo, the sudden realization of what he had done hitting him like a physical blow, because this place, he knew this place, knew what was here and how could he have done this he didn’t want to _be_ here, he needed to get out right now, to escape and fly as far away as he could, but that was impossible because there was only one way out and _no no no_ , he didn’t want this, didn’t want any of this, couldn’t possibly--

A sob rang out through the tunnel, echoing off the walls. His own, perhaps, but no, the dragon couldn’t sob. Through the dragon’s panic, he remembered the other body that had fallen through the entrance alongside him. He recognized Jarre’s scent, the same one that permeated the headquarters that had been their home for the past weeks. He felt her warmth, and he heard her desperate, fearful cries, heard her banging at the door that would not open. She was losing herself, just as the dragon was losing himself, and he called out for her, wanting to comfort her, needing some of that comfort for himself.

She didn’t respond, still crying out for Limbeck, for anyone. Maybe, he thought wildly, if he did something about this darkness. Taking a breath, the dragon began to hum the melody, tracing out the runes with his tail and the tips of his wings, neck craning purposefully until the blue runes lit up on the walls. The sight of their familiar glow sickened him, slightly, but he tried to focus on Jarre, instead, chirping out to her again, reaching his tail out to tap her arm.

She screamed, of course. He startled, but held his ground, chirping again, reaching out to her. For the first time in a long while, he found himself wishing he could speak, wanting to calm her, to calm them both. Instead, he reached out his head, touching it gently to her shoulder. A small, trembling hand brushed against his neck, and then the dragon’s eyes met with hers, so full of a terror that the dragon felt, too.

He couldn’t save himself from the horror of this place. But he might at least be able to save Jarre. The thought was enough to move him, to nudge her forward, away from the place they had entered and farther down the hall. He chirped again, soft, comforting, but Jarre’s feet were planted firmly. He pulled her once more, daring himself to take a step forward, shuddering as he moved away from the dwarf.

“Wait!” It was just as frightening for the dwarf, forcing her to step forward, herself, finding his side again. Her whole body shook, and her voice quivered with it when she spoke. “Please don’t leave.”

Their eyes met again, and the dragon wrapped his tail around her hand. _Please, trust me,_ he would have told her if he could have spoken. _I can get us out of here safely if you just trust me._ He turned his head to look down the dark hallway, then back to Jarre. Her dark eyes flickered up, still full of fear.

Humming again, he took another step, pulling gently at Jarre’s hand. She whimpered, closed her eyes tightly, and then she opened them once more, fear now laced with determination, and so they took their next steps together.

The dragon held her hand firmly, humming every step of the way. The halls were familiar, so familiar, but he blocked it out, focusing all his attentions on keeping the light on, on being there for his friend. Jarre’s steps grew surer, her own grip strong, each of them taking comfort in the presence of another. Before he knew it, they were stepping into the heart of it all.

 _The big, empty chamber. Straight lines. No dust. Dull faces, empty shells of their former selves. Pure horror._ His greatest fear, his worst nightmare, the very image he had been trying so hard to hold back, now burst forth in life in front of him, and everything was rushing back with it: being here, walking between the rows of coffins, desperately wishing for some kind of movement, any hint that he was not alone in this hall of corpses. He knew each and every lifeless face encased in the glass as intimately as if they were his own memories, because they _were_ his own memories, and there was no way to deny that anymore, not now, not with his own empty case sitting right in front of him, and right beside it--

 _Lya._ The lines of her face, exactly as he remembered them, her dark skin dull and lifeless. The grief and the sorrow stuck him again, his heart seizing up at the sight of her, but he could not tear his eyes away. His dear, beautiful Lya. The sight of her burned him as deeply as if he had held a scorching hot coal in his hands, and yet he could only grasp at it tighter, unable, unwilling to release it, because to do so would be to forget _Lya’s smile, the way she had laughed, her voice when she sang, when she said that name, his name--_

He had almost forgotten all of it. How could he have ever let himself forget her? Any of them? His eyes stung. Slowly, the memories flowed past him, and for once, he did not fight it, even when feelings of love and laughter gave way to the grief, the hopelessness, the profound isolation. He welcomed them all, like old friends he hadn’t seen in far too long. The glass of Lya’s tomb was cool against his forehead.

Behind him, Jarre stood, transfixed with horror. Just as he had been, moments ago. Just as he still was, somewhere in the depths of his mind. He could feel himself shaking, but the observation was an impersonal one, as if he were somehow standing outside of his own body.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, anymore. He’d always had the sense that if he were to remember, he would lose himself entirely, drowning in the world-consuming pain of a previous life. Now he wondered if he had almost lost himself, after all: not in allowing himself to remember, but in forcing himself to forget.

Jarre was weeping, now, her cries echoing through the chamber. The dragon turned to face her small form, her hand pressed against her mouth, tears tracking down her cheeks. It was time to take her away. He said his silent goodbye to the mausoleum. It wasn’t really a goodbye, though; he knew he would be seeing it again, in his dreams, tonight. The thought wasn’t as terrible as it might have been, this morning.

He guided Jarre up and out, lighting their way. She sniffled beside him, and again, he wanted to comfort her. Her Limbeck was waiting for her, and so was his Haplo, and a whole universe beyond that. The chamber was desolate, but its crystal and stone and corpses were not all there was, not anymore.

The dragon began to hear, again; the clanking of the machine, and then he heard familiar voices, and he sped up, dragging Jarre behind him, and suddenly, it was bright again, and he was bursting through a vent, pouncing at a very surprised Haplo, sending him flat on his back while Jarre tackled Limbeck. He heard her quiet, whispering tones explaining how she had gotten lost, how the dragon had helped her escape. He himself pressed closer, needing the contact, pressing his forehead firmly against Haplo’s.

Haplo allowed it, mostly because he was too shocked to do anything different. A split second later, he had recovered, shaking his head away to look at the dragon, entirely bemused. “There you are. Where did you run off to?”

The dragon, still a little frantic, made a noise akin to desperate laughter. _Oh, if only you knew._

Reluctantly, he allowed Haplo to push him off, getting to his feet. To the side, Hugh had been watching the display quietly, looking somewhat amused to see Haplo sent flying and pinned down so effortlessly. The boy, meanwhile, wore a sour expression, peeved at the loss of attention on himself.

And that was that. Hugh and Haplo went back to their planning, and Limbeck told Jarre of all she had missed. Life went on.

The memories wouldn’t go away; parts of a past that drifted and dangled, the backdrop of his present. It was impossible to hold these things in perfect stillness. He had been foolish to try. He knew that, now, even if he still didn’t know what to do with it: that person who had stood here so long ago, the one that was him, or had been, once. A name and a past that brought as much pain as pleasure, but they were _his_ , undeniably _his_ , and maybe, he dared to think, he could at least accept that much.

* * *

The dragonship rose ever-higher, slowly but surely making its way up to the High Realm, elves chipping away at the ice that crystallized on the hull of the ship as the air became colder and colder. All the occupants of the hold were shivering-- all but Haplo, who was almost completely coiled by the dragon. He was sitting upright, back resting against the dragon’s side, while its tail curled around to settle over his legs and its neck wound around his shoulder from the other side.

One might suppose that the creature’s scales would be affected by the freezing temperatures, but as the dragon breathed, warmth flowed outwards, leaving Haplo comfortable enough even without the use of any of his own magic. Few things were warmer than this; the dragon curling around him had kept him heated this way more than once, back in the Labyrinth. It was pretty comfortable, honestly, and easily the safest place for miles.

Bane was also taking advantage of the dragon’s warmth, cuddling up against its leg, using one of the its outstretched wings like a blanket, chattering to the dragon as he lay there. The kid had obviously gotten it into his head that his dragon was simply wonderful, exactly what he wanted, and what he wanted, he usually got.

Well, Haplo thought, not this time. He’d hardly been able to tear the dragon away from himself since they got separated in the Factree. It had been a few hours before its shivering episodes had stopped. It was acting less anxious now, at least, but still, somehow, entirely changed in a way that Haplo couldn’t name. It was… subdued, perhaps. Rather like Jarre, actually.

Haplo wished he knew what had happened, but Jarre had been tight-lipped about the whole thing, and there hadn’t been time to ask. He’d gotten all caught up in securing the dragonship, scheming to commandeer it for their own…

Things had gone a little off course from Haplo’s plans, that was for certain. He didn’t fret over it; though the winds might have changed, his course remained the same. They were headed up for the High Realm, either way, which was exactly where Haplo wanted to be.

“I wonder what we might find up there?” Haplo mused, looking at the dragon significantly. “Or _who_ we might find?” The dragon lifted its head, met his eyes. Its gaze was present in a way that it hadn’t been these past few days. Intelligence lurked behind its eyes, the blue flecks there glinting in the dim light. And then the eyes closed, and the large head settled once again, going back to its rest. Next to them, Bane played with the dog, figuring the animal’s attention was better than nothing.

Haplo leaned back against the warm scales under his body, following the dragon to sleep.


	4. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haplo deals with the mensch of Pryan and yet another man with a dragon for a companion.

Finally, Haplo spotted people scuttling around on the green surface of Pryan, having apparently noticed his approach. “Mensch?” he wondered out loud.

He heard a rustling noise, and he raised his arm in time for the dragon to perch there, peering out the window itself. It hesitated, superior eyes darting over the land, then nodded its head.

Haplo hummed, unsurprised. Time to prepare for landing, then. Once again, he wound the cloth bandages around his arms, checking and double checking for any hint of tattoos peeking out from between the strips. It was more out of habit than anything; after how well everything had gone on Arianus, he had less fear of being found out.

Haplo was ready near the ladder to the top deck when the ship touched down, sinking into vegetation that blocked the sunlight from the windows.

“You stay here,” he said to the dragon, grabbing the first rung of the ladder. There was no sense drawing even more attention to himself, he reasoned. The dragon didn’t look too pleased with that, but did as it was told.

Haplo climbed the ladder, finally exiting the dragonship. Immediately, he was hit with the heat of Pryan’s suns and the focus of a dozen or so mensch-- all elves but for one old human man, who appeared not at all intimidated by Haplo’s arrival. He beamed brightly, ran up to meet Haplo as he stepped off the dragonship.

“You see? What did I tell you all?” The man spoke before Haplo could even get a word out, eyes lit up with excitement. “You’re really here, this time. And I’m really here! And would you look at that, I have more than one line, don’t I? How exciting!”

Bewildered, Haplo glanced back at the elves, who were more appropriately startled by his appearance.

“But we’re missing someone, aren’t we?” With surprising agility, the man darted around Haplo, jumped on board the ship, and made his way to the door Haplo had just pulled himself up out of.

Haplo, caught off guard, didn’t even have time to wonder how the man had gotten past the warding runes unscathed before the man jumped down into the belly of the ship.

“Aha!” Came the man’s muffled voice, and Haplo finally had the sense to follow the man, spitting a curse as he did so. “There you are! Come on, no need to be shy. We’ve been expecting you, too!”

“Get out of there!” Haplo yelled, storming into his ship to drag the man away.

“Yes, yes, we’re coming!”

Haplo finally caught the stranger, who had found his dragon and was apparently trying to encourage it out of the ship. The dragon, understandably, looked very startled indeed.

Barely a minute off the ship and that secret was out, and his ship broken into. Alarming, but Haplo recollected himself quickly, intent on regaining the lost upper hand. “Both of you, then. Just get out.”

The old man frowned, turning to the dragon. “ _Not_ very polite for a savior, is he?” he asked, conversationally. “Nice to finally meet you. The name’s Zifnab. Well, sometimes, at least.”

Around them, the mensch were beginning to lose their fear, creeping cautiously closer.

One of the elven women spoke first. “Is this who we were meant to waiting for, then?” Her tone, like her overall demeanor, was dripping with boredom, but beneath heavy lids, her eyes surveyed the scene with interest.

“What is this, your son or something?” a man added, eyeing the miniature dragon that had flown up onto the deck after Zifnab and Haplo.

Zifnab looked up, hopeful. “Son?” he asked cautiously, then beamed. “My son! It’s been so long-- you never visit, do you?” The man moved as if to embrace him, but Haplo intercepted him, shoving him away violently.

“Get the hell off me, old man! What is _wrong_ with you?”

The mensch didn’t seem particularly alarmed by the man’s antics. Haplo was quickly beginning to realize that they were used to this foolishness. “I take it that’s a no,” the same elf said, halfway between amused and exhausted.

Haplo crossed his arms. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

“Not in this life,” Zifnab added wisely.

Again, Haplo’s features twisted into a scowl. What was going on here, and what did this man know about him? Or think he knew about him? It was already bad enough that he had seen the interior of his ship. He opened his mouth to demand answers, but Zifnab ignored him entirely, turning back to the dragon, who blinked, still shocked.

“And what shall we call you?” he asked, tone serious.

“Would you stop talking to it?” Haplo snapped. "What--"

“ _‘It!?’_ ”

Haplo jumped at the booming voice, but Zifnab only flinched. “Oh, now you’ve done it,” he warned.

The thick vegetation shook and shivered, and then, a huge green head slithered its way out from between branches and leaves. The creature’s eyes were bright red globes, and they fixed on Haplo, who stepped back, ready to run, until he realized the mensch around him didn’t even look afraid, anymore, just exasperated.

“‘It’ is exactly the problem!” The same deep voice huffed. “How would you like to be referred to as an ‘it’?”

“So,” Zifnab exclaimed cheerfully, ignoring this dragon in favor of kneeling down to the level of Haplo’s. “Your name is…?”

He looked at the smaller dragon, waiting politely. The dragon glanced at Haplo, whose urge to retreat back into his ship and find another place to land was growing rapidly.

“It’s a dragon,” he said plainly.

The old man frowned, crossing his arms with a sniff. “Well, that’s rude, isn’t it?”

“And again with the ‘it!’” The larger dragon shook its large head fiercely. “If it’s a gender-neutral pronoun you’re looking for, what’s so difficult about a simple ‘they?’ ‘They are a dragon,’ see, how hard is that?”

“Let’s see… Well, you’re definitely not a Smaug. More of a Puff, really,” Zifnab was already speaking over the dragon’s huffing. He hummed, deep in thought.

“I suppose it’s better to call him by no name at all than by the wrong name,” said the larger dragon sagely, having momentarily calmed itself.

Zifnab snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Falkor!”

The dragon standing at Haplo’s feet looked a shade concerned. Haplo, however, was quickly losing patience. “Enough, enough!" Just like that, the group became deadly silent beneath Haplo’s glower. “Now, can someone _sane_ tell me what exactly is going on here?”

Silence, and then a new woman approached, an elf whose facial features were as stiff as the fabric of her long skirt. Piercing gray eyes fixed on the dragonship, then Haplo, and finally they darted to the miniature dragon at his feet.

The quiet was broken by her shrill cry. “Another one?!”

* * *

If Haplo had hoped to make progress upon finally making contact with the inhabitants of Pryan, he was in for a rude awakening. Zifnab, the one he most wanted answers from, was useless; the crazy wizard didn’t refuse his demands as much as he deflected them at every turn.

The mensch were equally unhelpful. The only marginally interesting one was that elven woman, Aleatha, who spoke with him about the stars between flirtations.

She’d been quite interested in the dragon. “Such a handsome little creature,” she’d mused, bored with their current conversation. “I wonder if it would paint as lovely a picture draped across _my_ shoulders.” Eyes lit in mild curiosity, she had reached out with slender fingertips to brush the scales of the dragon’s tail curled around his arm.

Amusingly, the dragon hadn’t seemed impressed with her efforts to turn it into another one of her jewels.  Eyeing her with skepticism, it had escaped her touch, climbing further up Haplo’s arm. Rather than give chase, Aleatha allowed her fingers to brush against his upper arm and continued their conversation as if there had been no pause.

Yes, the dragon had done well, these past years, to make itself small, out of the way, passing as little more than a pet. Even Haplo had almost forgotten the huge, terrifying beast that had ripped the snogs to shreds before his eyes, but only a few days later he was reminded, and rather forcibly, when he encountered the tytans. Suddenly, the dragon was a head taller than him and roaring at the very creatures that had managed to overpower Haplo seconds earlier.

It was almost a shock to the system, to see the dragon like that again, but Haplo didn’t have time to marvel at it. He ran for the ship, then prepared to set sail as mensch poured in after him -- at Zifnab’s insistence, naturally.

The second Haplo saw his dragon return to the ship, they were in the air, though where they were going, only Zifnab knew. The dragon, back to its smaller size, was breathing a bit heavily as it landed on the ground near the dog, who yelped happily at the return of its friend.

“I knew I kept you around for some reason,” he remarked, reminding himself to reward the creature later with a bit of honey from the jar near the sausages.

Zifnab, meanwhile, was watching their progress from the window. “Houston, we have liftoff.”

The instant he uttered the words, the whole ship shook. For a moment, Haplo was certain the tytans had batted them out of the sky, and then he saw the dark green body of Zifnab’s dragon, rapidly coiling its way around Haplo’s ship, apparently to join the ride.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying his best to steer the ship with the new difficulty.

“Language,” snapped the larger dragon, its voice understandable even through the walls of the dragonship.

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to _swear,_ now?”

“Well, no, actually,” Zifnab chimed in helpfully.

Haplo shook his head, and once he was certain the ship was flying steadily away from the tytans’ reach, he rounded on Zifnab yet again. “Where exactly are we going, anyway? Where are the rest of the Sartan?”

“I’ve already told you! We’re going to the stars. You’re not very good at listening, now, are you?” He sighed, turning to the smaller dragon who had flown up nearby the steering stone. “This is really your wizard? No accounting for taste. There must be something there, though, if he’s the one you’ve chosen. Suppose I’ll try to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Haplo’s eyes narrowed. “That’s another thing. What do you know about my dragon?”

The ship wobbled, and even Haplo almost fell over.

“‘Your dragon?’” The booming voice sighed haughtily. “You wizards are all the same. So arrogant, every last one of you.”

Haplo groaned as, once again, the dragon began nagging Zifnab. He wasn’t going to get anything out them, was he? Not now, at least. May as well check on his mensch passengers, then. The dragon, _his_ dragon, stayed behind, watching the old man and his wizard bickering with wide, intrigued eyes. Haplo’s gaze lingered on it as he left, wondering just what the creature was thinking about all this.

* * *

“Would you give it a rest?” Haplo grumbled, shoving away the plate that the dragon had helpfully nudged towards him yet again. It was loaded with the same food he’d had on the ship when they’d made their departure, and thus they’d all been living on it for the past two weeks and were more than a little sick of the taste.

Zifnab pounded his fist in the air. “That’s right, you’ve got to stand your ground! We don’t need nosy, overbearing, overgrown lizards telling us what to do!”

The larger dragon huffed dangerously. “I only do it because I care about you, sir.”

The wizard rolled his eyes. “At least you’re quiet about it, Norbert,” he said, speaking to the smaller dragon, who had been pouting a bit as well. “Strong and silent type. I _wish_ I could get a moment’s peace.”

“No kidding,” Haplo muttered.

The large dragon turned its red-eyed glare from Zifnab to Haplo. “You’re as bad as he is! Cocky wizards would do well to spend less time flapping their mouths and more time listening.” The great dragon punctuated this reprimand with a fierce snort.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Rega commented, looking at the pair of scowling men and their affronted dragons.

At this, Haplo only scowled deeper. “We are nothing alike.”

“Other than the dragon that follows you around and fusses over you,” Paithen spoke up.

Haplo opened his mouth, then closed it. “Yeah, other than that.” He pursed his lips, then shook his head. “It’s not like the dragons are anything alike, either,” he muttered, making a wild gesture in their direction. It was true: the dragons’ only similarity was in their coloring, even then, their scales were entirely different shades of green. In all else-- shape, size, and even eye color-- there was no comparison. Hell, Zifnab's dragon didn't even have wings. “And mine has certainly never spoken to me, _fortunately.”_

“That’s because you’re not listening!” Zifnab scolded, knocking the end of his staff towards Haplo’s head. Even with instincts hewn sharp from a lifetime in the Labyrinth, he only narrowly dodged the hit.

“Hey!” His face contorted with rage, his runes glowing, but before he could grab the wizard by his beard, the dragon’s eyes glinted from over his shoulder.

“Mind your manners,” it said politely, crimson eyes sharp.

Haplo clenched his fists, glaring back down at his plate before forcing himself to take a bite.

* * *

Haplo was sick and tired of the mensch making trouble on his ship. “Whose damn idea was it to bring them along, anyway?” he muttered, making his way back to the main deck of the ship, needing peace and quiet and sanity for just a few moments.

When he reached the deck, he was greeted with the sight of his dragon sitting obediently in front of Zifnab’s dragon’s much larger head.

“--And a warm drink before bed can do wonders,” it was saying knowledgeably. “One of the most important things you can do for a petulant pet wizard. Warm milk, tea-- herbal tea, that is. Nothing with caffeine--trust me on that--”

Zifnab’s dragon cut itself off, noticing Haplo’s arrival for the first time. His dragon swiveled around to see what it was staring at. As soon as it saw him, his dragon’s eyes turned guilty, as if to say “this was not my fault.”

Haplo, suddenly profoundly exhausted, immediately left through the doorway he had just entered.

* * *

“Have you ever seen a hargast tree, Haplo?”

The dragon jumped, startled by the wizard, who had only moments before been clear on the other end of the ship. Haplo merely rolled his eyes, fed up with Zifnab’s constant, meaningless conversation. “No, I have not.”

The old man brightened. “Crystaltrees, you know. They’re really quite a sight to see. One of the seven wonders of the worlds, if you ask me, anyway. They almost look like they’re made out of crystals, hence the name, and they grow even larger than that beast of a dragon outside, so a whole grove of them--”

Haplo groaned internally, his exasperation mounting when he saw how this crazy wizard had his dragon’s rapt attention. Not even pretending to listen, Haplo turned on his heel, intent on checking the steering stone.

* * *

It was a relief to finally get off the dragonship, for more than one reason. First and foremost, it meant that Haplo could finally get away from the damn mensch, which he did at the first opportunity. That accomplished, he could finally do what he came here to do. Time to figure out exactly what was going on in this world, starting with these supposed stars.

The walls of the gleaming city would have been difficult to miss. The dragon saw it at almost the same time as he did, eyes widening along with his.

One look was all the communication necessary. Within seconds, Haplo had climbed on the dragon’s back and the pair of them were soaring through the air, rushing towards the high walls.

Flying dragonback was much swifter than walking, and it gave Haplo little time to wonder what he might find inside. Not that he needed it: a structure like that could only have been made by one people. The only question was if those people might still be there.

Though the city didn’t have any visible dome, it was almost certain to have some kind of magical shield. Luckily, the dragon didn’t need to be told not to try to fly up and over. It brought them directly in front of the outer gate, kneeling down to allow Haplo to dismount. The dog met him as soon as his feet touched the ground, but Haplo’s attentions were focused on the impressive doorway before them.

He waited long enough to ascertain that no response had been made to his arrival. He glanced sideways at the dragon. It was tense, as if it was preparing to be attacked at any moment, and its wide, golden eyes were fixed squarely on the door.

Haplo turned back to the door himself, raising his eyebrows. He took a step forward, reached out his hand, and then, Haplo knocked, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent area. Still, nothing. He called out over the wall. Nothing. No reaction at all.

In Arianus, he had seen no evidence of the Sartan beyond a few relics and the mythology of the mensch. Haplo knew he couldn’t make hasty conclusions, but so far, the same held true of Pryan, and the idea that there might still be Sartan here, or in Pryan at all, was looking less and less likely by the minute.

He lay his hand across the door, examining it closely. The runes were the key, that much was clear. Unlocking it would be simplicity.

Before he could even begin the attempt, the dragon sidled closer, tail twisting elegantly. Haplo heard its humming, light and melodious, a snippet of some forgotten song. A second later, the door had opened, and the dragon wasted no time flying through the widening opening.

Haplo did not follow it immediately. _The dragon can use Sartan magic._

The revelation left him exceedingly frustrated with himself, for how had he not noticed sooner? He suddenly found himself very glad that the crazy wizard, whoever he really was, was long gone. Haplo stood there staring at the door and the now-glowing runes marked upon it. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that the humming that preceded the dragon’s shifts in size was, in fact, humming. He replayed instances of the magic he had seen the dragon work in his mind: the way its body would twist, flicks of the tail and wingtips, as if it were tracing out sigils in the air.

Haplo struggled to make sense of it. It was an unsettling realization, how little he really knew about the dragon that accompanied him.

All Xar had been able to confirm was that this dragon was indeed something different than the evil, red dragons of the Labyrinth. This dragon was still from the Labyrinth, though, which had been created by the Sartan. Maybe, he argued with himself, it only stood to reason that any magic it knew would be Sartan in nature. He stood there, dissatisfied with his conclusions, until it occurred to him that he was wasting precious time, and that he was here to investigate Pryan, not to ruminate on the origins of a pet dragon. He strode through the doors, turning his attention back to his true purpose, for now.

It didn’t take more than a few steps inside for him to confirm his suspicions. The city was long abandoned. Windows were darkened, doors were left wide open, and weeds forced their way between cracks in the foundations. Its streets were empty but for the dragon that stood, still as stone, just outside the entrance.

* * *

The Sartan had indeed been here, had created this place and had their hand in destroying it. Haplo knew. The Sartan themselves had told him, in a pitiful message sent to a future they knew their people would not live to be a part of.

It took Haplo a moment after the Sartan’s echo disappeared to recognize the pain in his jaw from the way his teeth clenched together. So this was the result of the Sartan’s grand visions for the world: a world destroyed, ripped into pieces, and then left to destroy itself all over again. All thanks to the incompetence of the Sartan. This was what his people had been cast to the Labyrinth for.

Haplo felt the anger burn inside him. It felt good, invigorating. How could he be surprised that the Sartan would fail at this? Their arrogance had made fools of them, as it was always destined to, and now Haplo had seen their downfall. Their ultimate failure, as they lost control of their creation, as the tytans destroyed everything in their paths. He watched their desperation increase as their numbers dwindled, and their despair, and their sorrow. The gaunt faces wasting away, the emptiness as they realized their helplessness, and the helplessness of those they had sworn to protect.

The blaze of anger had not lasted long, and it left an unpleasantly hollow feeling in his chest. Glaring at nothing in particular, Haplo registered the dragon, standing on the tabletop, staring despondently at the place where the Sartan’s image had been moments ago. As he watched, its eyes shut tight, and its head lowered, nearly touching the surface of the table. A brief, sharp noise pierced Haplo’s ears, as if it had been wrenched forcibly from the throat of the miniature dragon on the table.

The creature that had charged the tytans now looked wracked with misery, almost as pitiful as the Sartan who had created them.

Again, Haplo was struck with sudden realization. “Is this what happened to you?”

The tytans, powerful and deadly, gifted with Sartan magic. Escaping the Sartan’s careful control. The Sartan’s creations hadn’t all worked entirely as intended, had they? And so the Sartan had betrayed them, done their best to contain them.

Would the Sartan have cast the tytans into the Labyrinth, if they had been able to? Haplo had little doubt. He thought back to the empty cavern where he had first met the dragon.

“Are there others like you?” he had asked, not sure what he could possibly hope to learn.

Slowly, heavily, the dragon had shook its head.

_Not anymore._

He was glad to be angry again, the heat of it energizing him. The dragon, meanwhile, had opened its eyes at the question, looking straight ahead to where those images had been: the ghost of a despairing, desperate, helpless Sartan. And then the dragon bobbed its head, eyes closing once more.

A confirmation, and one that should have driven his justified anger to an uncontrollable inferno. Instead, he frowned, the fire in his chest quickly dying a second death. He’d wanted nothing more than to be furious with the Sartan, but the dragon didn’t look furious. Haplo knew enough about the dragon by now to recognize, not a shared, righteous anger, but deep, gut-wrenching pain and sadness. Haplo decided he didn’t very much like it.

“I think we’ve found all we’re going to, here,” he finally said, quiet voice echoing through the empty chamber. “Let’s get out of here. This place is depressing.”

* * *

The Dragon Star took flight over the mensch. They had doomed themselves to war without Haplo having to lift a finger, and he watched their battle from above for a while, saw the moment they realized he was leaving without them.

If they didn’t kill each other, that dragon of Zifnab’s the mensch had been wailing about certainly would. And if not that, then the tytans would come and finish the job.

It really had been hopeless from the start, for them. Even so, Haplo was almost surprised that the dragon didn’t protest their leaving, after the fuss it had put up over Bane. It hadn’t been there when he’d grabbed the boy, too busy dealing with that Quicksilver of Sinistrad’s, and it had been irate with him for days once it realized Haplo intended to bring the boy to the Nexus.

Then again, it didn’t look like it was in much of a mood for nagging, at the moment.

* * *

_Curled restfully on the wooden floor of the main deck, the dragon listened vaguely to yet another round of Zifnab’s bickering with his companion. He’d spent much of their journey to the stars like this, near the two of them._

_It was bittersweet. A real, living Sartan, trying to help the mensch. He had seen Zifnab's expression as they left, when no one else was looking: saw it darken, saw the grief. And for a moment, he saw guilt, a guilt that the dragon shared. For a moment, it seemed their thoughts must be the same: "_ _This is our fault."_

_"We've done what we can." The words, laced with a quiet compassion, surely weren't loud enough to have sounded through the walls of the dragonship. No one else seemed to notice them, either, but the old man nodded, appearing somewhat soothed, if exhausted still._

_Inexplicable, that was Zifnab. A man dangling on the cusp of sanity. Yet despite it all, the dragon lingered beside him and his companion. He wondered just how long Zifnab had been alone. Had he, too, lived on when all the rest of his people had died?_

_Was this what he might have become, if he hadn’t met Haplo? Or maybe, in some kind of ironic role-reversal, Zifnab’s dragon was his Haplo._

_And it was such a small thing, but he'd forgotten what it felt like, being spoken to like a sentient, intelligent being._

 

_“Come on,” Zifnab had gestured to him, following Lenthan into his study. “There’s plenty here that I’m certain will pique your interest-- he’s got quite a collection, doesn’t he? Go ahead, take your pick.”_

_The dragon blinked, confronted with an entire wall of books, and more lying open around Lenthan and his various experiments. Zifnab watched his reaction with fondness. “Go on,” he said, encouraging the dragon, and then winked. “I won’t tell.”_

 

_“You shouldn’t underestimate yourself,” the deep voice of the dragon said once again._

_Zifnab’s dragon had taken him under his wing, so to speak. In addition to his various lectures about dealing with bad-tempered demigod familiars, there were bits and pieces of advice on techniques for flying, for fighting, for using magic._

_“It’s already quite ingenious, what you’ve managed on your own,” the dragon would say during these lessons, and he-- that is, the other dragon, Haplo’s dragon-- would wonder again how much they knew._

 

_“Have you ever seen a hargast tree, Haplo?”_

_The dragon’s heart stopped in his chest. Surely he had heard incorrectly._

_“Crystaltrees, you know,” Zifnab continued sagely. “They’re really quite a sight to see. One of the seven wonders of the worlds, if you ask me, anyway. They almost look like they’re made out of crystals, hence the name, and they grow even larger than that beast of a dragon outside, so a whole grove of them really is something incredible. You’ve never seen one?”_

_Of course Haplo had never seen a grove of crystaltrees. They were native to Arianus. Could they possibly exist on Pryan, as well? But no, Zifnab had turned to him, shot a wink his way as he spoke._

_Haplo was gone, now, and Zifnab stepped nearer to him, bending down to sit cross-legged on the floor beside him._

_“They can be quite dangerous, as you might imagine,” he was saying, oblivious to the dragon’s shock. “But even the broken-off pieces are beautiful. A long time ago, I knew an artisan--lovely fellow, real eye for color-- who made them into windchimes and other things. Isn’t that a lovely thought? All these fragments, sharp enough to cut clean to my bone, but instead they’re glittering in the sunlight, making the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard.” He was smiling, but he seemed far away, like a man whose mind was on other matters. “A kind of magic all its own, don't you think so?”_

_He shook his head, and his eyes met the dragon’s wide golden ones. “You’ve come so far and done so much, hm?” He smiled sadly, knowing, though what he knew, the dragon wasn’t certain. “Miles to go before we sleep, and all that.” He exhaled heavily, and where moments before he had been jovial, he now looked older, tired. “Yes, still quite a long ways to go.”_

_He let that sit in his mind, contemplating it as any Sartan would have contemplated the words of a respected elder. It really had been a long time._

_“Sir,” called a smooth, deep voice. “We’re going to be landing soon. You had something to tell him?”_

_Zifnab frowned. “Did I?”_

_A deep sigh. “You know, this is exactly why you only had one line, last time.”_

_The wizard’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”_

_“Nothing at all.”_

_“It’s hardly my fault that some people’s only concept of wit is brushing up against some metaphorical wall.”_

_“Of course not, sir.”_

_“It’s not even clever.”_

_“Of course not. But if we could get to the point without the banter?”_

_“Where’s the fun in that? Fine, fine, I’ll get to the ‘point.’” He spoke the last word with disdain, then blinked. “What was the point?”_

_“The mensch.”_

_“Right, right. That wizard of yours isn’t likely to stick around long once we land, is he? Well, don’t worry yourself over it, Alfred. We’ll watch over them, so you just take care of yourselves, understand?”_

_He started, jolting at the sound of the name, but Zifnab gave no indication that he had said anything remarkable at all._

_“Don’t worry. I’ll be seeing you again soon enough,” he promised with a wide smile._

* * *

He watched Haplo take over the steering stone, mind littered with loose ends: the wizard, his dragon, the Sartan, the mensch. Another empty chamber, another stabbing reminder of all that had been lost. And the sound of a name that had been lingering on the cusp of his consciousness since his return to the mausoleum, now wrenched back to light.

Once, the dragon might have shoved it all into the recesses of his mind. Now, he lay on the floor, curling into himself, unanswered questions battering against his skull, aided by the pain of reopened wounds. The dragon, or whoever he really was, closed his eyes, begging his own mind for rest.

A few moments later, the dog took its place by his side, fur brushing against his scales, resting its head against its front paws. It seemed they both had a long journey ahead of them, yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist referencing To draw on all its omnipotence a bit, heh... Anyway, you can blame both Pryan and my own lack of ability to do Zifnab justice for this taking two months to get out. Zifnab certainly does.
> 
> Also, apparently I literally can’t write about anything on Pryan without dragging it. Whoops.
> 
> As always, thanks to OwlFlight for thinking of so many of these ideas with me!


	5. Facet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Abarrach yields some unexpected results. But what is a curiosity to Haplo could prove disastrous to the dragon.

From his place at the steering stone, Haplo watched carefully as his dragonship approached Death’s Gate. It wasn’t his first time traveling this way, but this particular venture deserved special attention. This time, he intended to witness the full journey through the gate between worlds.

The dragon stood near Haplo, having shifted size to match his height: the better to observe what was happening outside. It, too, seemed intrigued by this experiment. In the Nexus, it had kept its distance from Haplo and Xar. Still, as they made alterations and additions to the runes protecting the ship, Haplo had felt its golden eyes on them from a nearby perch on a neighboring building.

Tongue hanging out of its mouth and plumed tail wagging cheerfully, the dog sat between Haplo and the dragon. It was always glad to join Haplo in the ship, but it was especially pleased now, having been being ignored in recent days while Haplo prepared for this very venture.

Haplo was not quite so relaxed. His fingers clenched against the steering stone as Death’s Gate consumed the ship and him inside it. Mentally, he braced himself to resist whatever magical force had rendered him unconscious during his previous journeys through Death’s Gate.

At first, there was nothing. A few minutes passed, and Haplo had relaxed some.

And then, just as he was convinced that the runes he and his lord painstakingly added to the ship had indeed managed to protect him, the ship jolted beneath his feet, almost sending Haplo to the ground. The dragon let out a startled shriek, and the dog jumped to its feet, barking and bearing its teeth against a threat it couldn’t see, but could certainly feel.

Haplo reached one hand out to calm the dog, the other gripping at his handhold even more securely. The ship stilled again, but its inhabitants, waiting in tense quiet, weren’t much comforted.

The silence was broken with a loud crash, vibrating madly in the aftermath, and this time Haplo was knocked off his feet completely.

Off his feet and out of his mind. The world turned upside-down and inside-out and back again. Hot and cold and dark and light, and his mind wasn’t built to process the torrent of contradictions into which it had been flung. His senses blurred together, and he was lost in a sea of chaos, frantically reaching for something to ground him…

 

...He opened his eyes to the gleam of glass above him, encasing him.

Haplo’s instinct was panic, confusion, but the feelings barely surfaced before they were swept away like a stray speck of dirt. Instead, he felt relaxed, well-rested, and it was eagerly that he raised a hand to the smooth, clean surface of the glass. A song formed on his lips, a familiar melody that melted the glass away to nothing.

His only thought was of his fellow Sartan, his friends and loved ones, mixed up with shining visions of the new world they had woken up to. Unwilling to wait even another second to greet them, he sat up too fast, making him light-headed for a moment.

The room came back into view, and now he could see the rest of the hall, full of containers just like his own. Perfectly straight lines, perfectly clear glass. Even after all this time, there was no dust caking over the material: this room had been carefully constructed so that not even dust would disturb its inhabitants, no matter how long they rested unattended.

Yet there was no other living being in the room. Was he the first one to wake? He lifted himself out of his case, his first footsteps echoing loudly in his eardrums.

The case next to him. He walked up to it, peering inside. He felt himself smile, glimpsed his own translucent reflection in the glass, but his focus was beyond that, fixated on the person inside. Relief washed over him as he saw the beloved face.

Why wasn’t she awake? He waited for her to move, waited for her to breathe, waited for any small sign of life within her. Relief slowly froze into icy terror. His eyes widened in horrible realization and his heart seemed to stop in his chest. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t breathing. He turned, ran to another cask. She wasn’t breathing. None of them were breathing.

His chest constricted; he couldn’t breathe, either. He couldn’t see, his eyes blurring with tears as the knowledge sank into him. Sobs wrenched themselves out of his throat, ugly and heaving and choking, and he must have looked ridiculous, but what did it matter? No one was around to see him, he was alone, alone, alone…

A pale, weak hand pressed against the glass, looking at the woman’s face. _This time, her eyes will open._

Another day, watching a different face: _This time, he will breathe._

Images flashed slowly before his eyes, each one a different day, a different face, but the same desperate hope: _This time, I will not be alone._

_This time…_

_This time…_

In a matter of seconds, a week had passed, and then two weeks, and then the days began to flip past even faster, until he had experienced entire years of pain compressed into a matter of seconds, tearing his mind and soul in all directions, shattering him into irreparable pieces.

And then his mind was assaulted by bright white and the same image of his aged hand against the cool glass of a tomb, and yet another woman’s face inside, still and cold as all the others. Beneath him, his limbs seemed to give out, unable to support his own weight.

Her eyes would never open again, and he knew it was his fault, it was all his fault...

 

Haplo held his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

The wood floor of his ship was hard beneath him, as it should be. The shaking had stopped; all was quiet. His head pounded, images still flashing before his eyes, his body trembling with emotion not his own.

What the hell was that about?

He took a deep breath, struggling to calm himself. Death’s Gate, obviously. But what had he seen, and why should the gate make him see it?

 _Just a dream,_ he tried to convince himself. He was no stranger to vivid dreams, after all. But he knew that wasn’t right: he had never had a dream like that. Why should he dream of being a Sartan? What did it mean? He couldn’t sort through any of it, not with all that pain and heartbreak and grief still firmly in his mind.

Beside him, he noticed movement. He opened his eyes, looked up to see the dragon taking a shaky step towards him, golden eyes shimmering with worry. It didn’t look so well, either, Haplo thought, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. Couldn’t focus on anything, particularly.

It had been so real. The women’s faces were still burned in his memory in vivid detail.

He closed his eyes, forcing his breaths to come evenly. When the dragon came nearer, he opened them again, gently pushing its concerned head out of nuzzling range so he could stand, climb dazedly up to the deck.

He blinked. The ship was sailing smoothly, all right. Right over a river of lava, making its way through the huge tunnels it had carved out, headed towards some unknown destination.

“I guess we made it,” he finally said. His voice sounded strange in his own ears: too deep, too gruff.

_I guess so._

The hair on the back of Haplo’s neck stood on its end, and his muscles tensed. He turned around, glancing left and right, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. He blinked slowly, forcing himself to relax. He thought he’d heard something, but he must have imagined it. Unusual for him to be so easily startled, but then he could hardly be blamed, after what had just happened.

He shook his head, hoping to clear it and get back to business. “I think I preferred being knocked out cold, though,” he muttered, casting one last dirty look around him before turning back to the steering stone. The dragon followed him, letting out a questioning sort of chirp.

_You don’t look well._

This time, Haplo swung around, dagger already in his hand and runes flaring red. The dog growled menacingly at his feet, hackles up, and glaring at--

Nothing. Haplo didn’t drop his guard, even when the dog looked up at him, whining in confusion. “Did you hear something?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dragon slowly shake its head. Haplo narrowed his eyes, disbelieving. It had been right there, that voice. He was certain. “Are you sure?

The dragon nodded. Haplo pursed his lips, turned his face away, still glancing around the room. He wasn’t accustomed to distrusting his own senses, still suspected some kind of trick. Death’s Gate, he thought wildly, trying to rationalize it. He must still be confused after what he saw in there.

He wondered, fleetingly, if he had gone as crazy as the Sartan in his vision. Unless someone else really had snuck onto the ship, somehow, but what were the chances of that?

_Surely one of us would have noticed if that were the case._

As soon as he heard it, he whirled around, jaw tensing, straining to locate its source, but the voice wasn’t coming from any particular direction. It almost didn’t feel like sound at all, the more he thought about it. It was almost as if he were thinking the words himself, except it wasn’t, it couldn’t be.

Hearing voices was never a good sign. He’d lived in the Labyrinth and in the Nexus long enough to know.

 _Voices?_ And now, in addition to the voice, he felt a wave of concern washing over him that was, most disorientingly, not his own. He understood, then, in a jolt of panic: someone, or something, was invading his thoughts.

 _Who the hell are you?_ He thought the words as harshly as he could, envisioned pushing them toward the unfamiliar source of activity in his consciousness. The effect was something too loud, too intense, and he flinched against it, feeling some other being’s confusion.

Beside him, the dragon let out a small noise of distress. He turned towards it, intending to check on it, and then he felt realization, not his own, hit him like a hammer. The dragon’s eyes widened, focused on him, and Haplo felt his own realization click more softly into place.

 _Haplo?_ The voice spoke again. Softer, now: hesitant, awed, and perhaps a little afraid. _Can you… hear me?_

He took a deep breath, standing up straight, the hand holding the dagger dropping to his side. “Yes,” he murmured. “I can hear you.” His eyes remained fixed with the dragon’s, seeing it in a new light as he stepped forward. He watched it carefully, speaking the next words only within his mind: _It is you, isn’t it?_

The dragon’s eyes closed, and suddenly Haplo was overcome. His senses were flooded with an undefinable cocktail of emotion. Like Death’s Gate all over again: his heart soared with joy even as it froze with utter terror.

_It is. It’s me, Haplo._

Emerald eyelids opened, and Haplo could read the same paradoxes of emotion in the dragon’s eyes, shimmering like those blue flecks in a sea of gold. Haplo could feel it brewing inside of him, until fear and uncertainty gave way to a kind of giddiness bubbling up inside him.

The sensation was incredibly unnerving. In the haze of emotion, he found his own consciousness and held to it fast, pushing away what wasn’t his with all his concentration. “I don’t understand,” he said when he’d gotten his bearings. “How can it be you?”

It was difficult to focus, still, so turbulent was the other consciousness invading his mind. Slowly, he felt it subside, as the dragon, too, grappled for control over this connection.

 _It must have happened as we traveled through Death’s Gate, somehow,_ it said.

Haplo remembered it, along with the paradoxes he’d been subjected to. It was impossible to recall in perfect detail; his brain simply wasn’t built for it. But he remembered the feeling of his consciousness being torn away from his physical state, of clinging to anything he could find.

 _Yes, exactly,_ the voice-- the dragon-- agreed, more enthusiastic, this time. _Time and space and even existence itself-- none of it means anything where Death's Gate is concerned. In such a destabilizing environment, some kind of link could easily have been formed._

Haplo blinked.

 _Well, at least, that’s my theory._ The dragon looked away, hot embarrassment making its way to Haplo, whose mind was racing. It shouldn’t have been so jarring; it was a dragon, after all, and dragons were well-known to be intelligent creatures. He’d known this dragon was no exception.

Perhaps he could excuse himself, though. The dragon actually speaking to him was startling in and of itself, but with speech like that? He might have been less surprised if the dog had sat up and started reciting epic poetry.

“It makes sense,” he finally said, doing his best to once again push the unwelcome feelings away.

Grasping for something to do with himself, he moved towards the steering stone. He saw the river of lava before him, but images of the mausoleum seemed to flash before his vision, and then there was this new development with the dragon to consider. He felt frayed, his attention scattered in too many directions.

One problem at a time, he scolded himself. He was more disciplined than this. He looked out the windows again, and this time he truly saw the landscape there, saw their tunnel open into an enormous chamber, the river ahead of them draining into a lake of molten rock. There, that was the first thing to do: land the ship. Feeling more confident, more in control than before, he began to direct the ship appropriately.

Abarrach.

Thus far, what Xar had told him about Abarrach seemed to be correct. It seemed unlikely that much life would be able to survive in this kind of environment, and he didn’t see anything, so far. It might be a short trip, after all.

_Hello there._

Again, the words took Haplo by surprise, and he turned back quickly, startling the dragon, whose head darted up away from the dog that had wandered up to greet it. The dog turned towards Haplo, too, tail wagging manically, something like an excited grin on its face.

Again, Haplo felt that flash of sheepishness through his body. _Sorry._

Not what anyone would expect of a dragon, he thought dryly, but then, there was another fact that shouldn’t have surprised him, by now. Haplo scowled, shaking his head and turning back to his work. That was a matter to think about later.

* * *

_A city? Are you certain?_

“See for yourself.”

The dragon needn’t have asked; his eyesight was superior to Haplo’s, and it only took a quick glance to spot the buildings in the distance. More than that, the dragon could see the people there-- or rather, the lack thereof. That didn’t have to mean anything, though; perhaps they were simply all inside at the moment. There was no way to tell until they got off the ship, themselves.

The dragon sat quietly, watching the shore grow nearer. It seemed like a bit of a waste, not to say anything, not to take advantage of the incredible opportunity he had been presented with. Were he and Haplo really going to just go about business as usual? But then, what should the dragon say? He had no idea; he’d never considered this possibility.

Haplo probably hadn’t, either. He hadn’t spoken again, apparently completely focused on steering the ship. More likely, he was teaching himself to control this new connection between them, for his thoughts were no longer invading the dragon’s own. He always had been a swift learner.

And he was headed to explore Abarrach. Now that was something the dragon had spent a lot of time thinking about: Abarrach, world of stone. The only piece of the Sundered world that remained for him to explore. The only world where, no matter how little hope he held, his people might have actually survived.

His people. He wasn’t even sure what that meant, anymore. He’d seen _his people_ living in Chelestra; did they not count? They were Sartan, too, after all.

They were Sartan, too. He took a sharp breath, felt a headache coming on. When had he started to think of it that way, again?

In his confusion, his mind very helpfully supplied him with recent memories: the mausoleum, the citadel. The nostalgic thunder of the Maelstrom and the sound of a mensch name he had once taken for himself. And new memories, transmitted to him, somehow, through Death’s Gate, the images forcing their way to the forefront.

The whispering sound of the Labyrinth’s underbrush against his skin as he ran, sharp barbs cutting into flesh in between defensive runes. The blow to his head, the cries of his parents, and then the devastating silence. The moment he was ripped apart, torn away from those who had cared for him. The pain of a child who had experienced the most terrible loss, and the hatred towards the Sartan who had caused it. The terror of knowing that he was now completely alone, that to be otherwise was a luxury that he could no longer afford.

He stood up on his two legs and took his first steps. Haplo. Single, alone...

He could feel it perfectly. So perfectly, in fact, that it left him disoriented: leaves against skin he didn’t have, strong legs supporting a body that was the wrong shape, grasping with hands and speaking with a voice that had never been his, but that he could remember so clearly all the same.

And the grief. The loneliness, and the fear. Sensations that he was intimately familiar with, but it ached much differently, experiencing it like he had, through the filter of a loved one’s consciousness.

Even after all this time, he knew almost nothing of Haplo’s past. He would have expected this kind of horrible tragedy-- what else existed, in the Labyrinth?-- but even so, seeing a piece of it for himself filled him with sympathy, and an even stronger guilt. If only he had been there, if only he could have stopped it. If only the Sartan had been stopped, long ago, before their actions inflicted that same devastation on generations of Patryns.

For a moment, through some small crack in the wall between them, some of the dragon’s thoughts spilt over to Haplo, and then, just as quickly, the wall was shut tight. It didn’t surprise the dragon, the control Haplo already seemed to have developed over this connection. His mental fortitude always had been strong where the dragon’s was weak, and more than that, the Patryn had always been good at ignoring his own pain.

At last, their ship stopped, the magic doing most of the work of docking while Haplo and the dragon watched. The dragon weighed his options, then made a decision.

_I’m coming with you._

Haplo looked at him. Not unhappy or irritated, like the dragon might have expected, but almost completely neutral. The dragon continued, growing more certain. _There’s no one out there._

“No one that we saw,” Haplo countered mildly.

The dragon sighed. _My being inconspicuous hasn’t exactly worked out for us, before. And my presence hasn’t been detrimental to you, has it?_

“No,” Haplo said, and he still looked strange to the dragon. Not displeased, still, but as if he was waiting for something.

 _I want to see for myself,_ the dragon concluded, at last. _I’m coming._

And now Haplo’s expression darkened, just slightly, easy to miss if the dragon hadn’t been watching for it. “You’ve just decided that, have you?”

Just like that, the dragon understood. They were companions, friends, even, but maybe it wasn’t really that simple. As long as Haplo had known him, he had, for the most part, been content to follow his lead with little protest. He’d been a bit like the dog, in that respect. Now, at least to Haplo's eyes, the status quo had shifted. They now stood in a new and uncertain landscape, and so Haplo was finding his footing.

Knowing him, it wouldn't take too long. The dragon wasn't worried about that. But there was another problem dawning on him. Haplo was intelligent. Sooner or later, he would certainly start asking questions, questions the dragon wasn’t sure how to answer. If he even wanted to answer them at all.

Haplo, in the midst of the dragon’s growing anxiety, turned around. “Fine,” he said, making to exit the ship.

Willing his heart to calm, the dragon steeled himself, followed him outside. He would deal with those problems when and if they arose.

The moment they stepped outside the range of the ship’s runes, the dragon was assaulted by a hideous odor. He heard himself make a retching sound, physically knocked back with it.

Haplo stopped, glanced back at him. “Alright?”

The dragon nodded, recollected himself until he could breathe normally again. The dragon didn’t like it. The sulphurous smell of the noxious atmosphere was bad enough, but there was more to it that sent the dragon’s nerves on edge: the smell of death.

“Xar was right,” Haplo was saying, the dog trotting at his heels. “There’s no way mensch could survive in a place like this.” He paused. “Which begs the question: who is living in that city?”

The dragon caught his implication, felt it tug at his heartstrings.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the small city on the shoreline. It took even less time for the dragon to confirm that, to his senses, at least, the place was as abandoned as it looked.

Haplo performed his cursory examinations in silence, wandering through various buildings, most of which had been left unlocked, if their doors weren’t already hanging wide open. Not long into this process, he stopped at a door, looking closely at its woven surface.

_What is it?_

Haplo shifted aside, exposing a marking on the surface, almost entirely faded. “Certainly not Patryn,” he remarked, his voice laced with tension.

The dragon examined it, realized what Haplo meant, feeling a chill down his spine. The marking was difficult to make out, but the structure, the shape... _It’s not quite Sartan, either._

Haplo looked at him sharply. “No?” His voice was challenging, skeptical, and suddenly the dragon remembered that the subject of Sartan runes was probably not one he wanted to get into at the moment.

 _It just doesn’t seem quite right, does it?_ He asked the question quickly, craning his neck to look around again. _Where did they all go, anyway? They only left recently, I can tell that much._

His attempt at evasion was far too obvious, he fretted privately, but it was apparently successful, as Haplo’s focus was redirected for the moment. “They evacuated quickly. Left everything behind.” He gestured around the room, pointing out all the little indicators the dragon hadn’t needed to be so clever to notice, all the evidences of a hasty departure. “They were running from something.”

The dragon latched to that train of thought. _The people that lived here went that way,_ he said, gesturing helpfully towards the magma sea. _But there was another group that headed towards those tunnels._

“An army,” Haplo concluded.

The dragon paused. That assessment didn’t seem quite right, somehow, but he wasn’t quite sure why.

Haplo took one last look around, then began walking purposefully out of the town, towards the tunnels that the dragon had pointed out.

The dragon caught up to him quickly. _You’re going toward them?_

A slight ripple of irritation, quickly reigned in. _Considering the alternative is trying to sail across the lake, yes._

Their journey became a silent one, and something more familiar to both of them: the dragon keeping pace with the dog behind Haplo, refraining from flight lest he draw the eye of an enemy. The dog nipped at him as they walked along, still in a cheerful mood in spite of the heaviness the atmosphere among them had taken on.

The headache the dragon had predicted was now upon him in full force. Never before had Death’s Gate left him feeling so out of his depth. He was in Abarrach, but wasn’t sure what exactly he hoped to find. He could speak to Haplo now, but had no idea what to do about it.

But it was even worse than that. His mind couldn’t seem to let go of those memories the gate had forced upon him. Something similar had happened in Arianus: painful flashes of memory, rattling sharply against the inside of his skull, unwilling to be suppressed. Ways of feeling and thinking that were not the dragon’s, but so familiar nonetheless. He’d been having dreams along those lines, recently: visions of his past, mostly, resurfacing from years of neglect. But those dreams were always easy enough to set aside during waking hours; they were not nearly so vivid.

The overall effect was one he could only describe as a rush of uncontrollable dizziness, enough to make his own thoughts turn fuzzy and unclear. In the back of his mind, he felt Haplo’s presence again, struggling against the foreign input.

 _Sorry,_ the dragon said, exuding far too much guilt. He had to get better at controlling this. Sooner or later, the matter would become critical.

Haplo shook his head, his words drifting towards the dragon much easier. _This is going to take some getting used to._

The dragon blinked. It was a practical observation, of course, but there was a sense of honesty about it, too, acknowledging the mutual strangeness of their situation. _For me, too,_ he admitted. Then, after the briefest hesitation: _It’s been a while since I was able to converse with anyone else at all._

Haplo’s footsteps slowed slightly until he was in step beside the dragon. _How long, exactly?_

Ah, the dragon thought faintly, recognizing the foolish step he’d taken. _Years,_ he answered honestly, uncomfortable with the idea of lying. _I was alone for a long time._

Beside him, Haplo nodded. _The rest of your kind…?_

 _The Labyrinth destroyed us,_ he said shortly. He knew Haplo’s hypothesis, and it wasn’t entirely wrong, anyway, for the Labyrinth had destroyed them all, in a million different ways.

He felt Haplo’s mood sour, his suspicions confirmed. _The Sartan imprisoned your people, too._

 _They were afraid of us._ That was the truth, too; he remembered all too clearly. There had been so much fear, fear that had grown into hatred, and that hatred that had festered into the evil that was the Labyrinth.

 _As they should be,_ Haplo spat, either not noticing his sadness or ignoring it altogether. Around them, the huge cavern that contained the lake of lava and the town began to slope inward, narrowing into the entrance of the tunnel the dragon had pointed out earlier. Away from the magma pool, their way grew darker, and Haplo adjusted the bandages on his arms until they provided enough light for him to see the way forward.

_Why follow me, though?_

The dragon had thought they were finished conversing for the time being, had been trying once again to distract himself from his relentless thoughts. He startled at the question, but he found he welcomed this one. It was nice to think of a good memory, for once.

_I had seen Patryns before, in the Labyrinth, but I never let myself get too close. You were the first person who ventured so near._

Haplo frowned, and the dragon caught onto the string of his thoughts: how close he’d been to death, how stupid he’d been for daring to get so close to a dragon’s lair. _Reckless._

 _You had cause for it,_ the dragon reminded him gently. Images of bloodthirsty creatures that conjured themselves in their minds, before Haplo quickly brushed them away.

_So I was a curiosity._

The dragon considered. _Maybe a bit,_ he admitted. _But mostly… I realized that I didn’t want to be alone, anymore._

To the dragon’s senses, Haplo seemed to stiffen, offering him no reply as he walked ahead. The dragon wasn’t surprised. He wouldn’t have been at all shocked if such a sentiment had been met with open derision. He knew the meaning of Haplo’s name, after all. Still, though he would never admit it, the dragon suspected the Patryn understood more than he particularly wanted to.

 _And you were kind to me,_ he added, as an afterthought. _I certainly hadn’t expected that._

Now Haplo really did scoff. _Kind?_ The tone was incredulous. _The very first thing I did was try to kill you._

 _Well, yes, but only the once,_ the dragon countered. _Then you let me stay with you._

The Patryn huffed. _I knew you would be useful to have around._

They walked a little further, picking their steps carefully through the rocky pathway. “Kind,” Haplo muttered under his breath.

The dragon couldn’t tell if he was disgusted or merely bewildered. Either way, he had to suppress his laughter. _You feed me honey and let me cuddle with your dog,_ he said, the temptation to tease too strong.

At this, Haplo scowled, and had his face not already been warm from walking the dragon suspected he would have noticed it heat. _Like I can control what the damn dog does._

The dog, apparently sensing it had been disrespected, whined judgmentally. Laughter rumbled through the dragon, his heart wonderfully light. _Of course not,_ he agreed cheerfully. _Well then, Haplo, let’s say I follow you because I like your dog._

Haplo said nothing, just shook his head again, but it was a nice feeling, and one the dragon sunk into like a warm bath. An image struck him, and not a memory, this time, but something new: Haplo and the dog walking through the dark tunnels, exactly as they were now, only instead of the dragon, it was a Sartan that walked beside them, his laugh bouncing lightly off the surface of the rock.

The vision struck him like a slap across the face. He could picture it perfectly, down to the sensation of existing in that body-- in _his_ body-- standing on overlarge feet, the cold air against his skin. And perhaps most shocking of all was the longing, the sheer longing for it all that shot through his veins.

“Are you alright?”

Haplo’s voice snapped him back to reality. He was looking at the dragon expectantly, could obviously tell something was wrong. Was it wrong? The dragon shook his head, unsettled, uncertain what exactly had happened.

 _Fine,_ he said, at last. Feeling Haplo’s dissatisfaction, he continued. _Going through Death’s Gate like that was… confusing._

Slowly, Haplo nodded, and it seemed like he was considering something, mentally weighing his next thought. _You saw something, too. A... vision, or a dream, or something._

It wasn’t a conversation that was going anywhere good for him, but the dragon found himself nodding. _I did._ For a moment, he thought about asking what Haplo had seen. But he knew the answer, or believed he did, and decided he was better off not knowing for sure. He was a bad liar and always had been.

It made him uncomfortable: hiding, lying by omission. He supposed he had been doing that all along, but it hadn’t exactly felt like hiding, before. After all, he couldn’t have told Haplo anything about himself even if he’d wanted to.

And he’d been satisfied with that, refusing for years to give the matter any more thought. Oh, maybe deep down he’d known that was just an excuse; he could have found a way if he’d really tried. But why would he have? No Patryn would have befriended a Sartan, and he himself was more than willing to be a nameless, voiceless creature if it meant a chance to throw away the past.

To Haplo, he was the dragon and only the dragon. And that was all he was, now, and all he ever would be, no matter how many garbled memories his traitorous mind insisted on throwing at him. So what did it really matter? What use was there in dredging up the past and complicating things?

He wrestled with it, shame against fear, so absorbed that it took him a moment to realize that he could hear something in the distance, echoing through the tunnel. He stopped in his tracks.

“What now?” Haplo asked.

_There’s someone there._

* * *

Haplo’s reaction was immediate: _Who? How many? Are they coming this way?_

 _No, no,_ came the dragon’s hasty response. _Not dangerous, I don’t think. Not an army. A few hundred, I think. Families and children and--_

Here, the dragon cut itself off, distracted or dismayed. _And what?_ Haplo demanded, straining to hear. It was in vain; he couldn’t hope to match a dragon’s senses.

_I… I’m not sure._

_How far away?_

The dragon’s nervousness expanded in his chest, a strange and unwelcome feeling. _Maybe we shouldn’t--_

 _If you’re not going to tell me then I’m going to find out for myself,_ Haplo interrupted, leaving no room for debate.

 _I told you,_ the dragon insisted, _I’m not sure--_ This time it cut itself off, heaving a reluctant sigh. _Not far._

So Haplo nodded and forged ahead, slower, now, more attentive about stealth. If there were Sartan down this tunnel, it was unlikely they could hear any better than he could, but still, better to be safe than sorry. The dragon might have claimed them not to be dangerous, but Haplo was skeptical, for what could possibly have made a dragon, of all creatures, so nervous?

The dragon stayed put, at first. The dog, noticing this, backtracked a bit, yipped out an invitation for it to follow them. Haplo snapped around, shushing the dog, who met his stern glare with an innocent look of its own, as if to ask what else it was supposed to have done.

It did its job, at least, as the dragon began to follow again. It said nothing more, retreating back to its own consciousness as they approached, making for an eerie silence. Before long, though, the quiet was replaced with echoes from further along the cave’s path, a murmuring that grew louder. The closer they came, the more Haplo could make it out.

_Sartan._

He had been suspicious before, but he was certain of it now, and as he thought it they turned a corner to see lights in the distance, revealing a mass of shadowy figures. He stopped in his tracks, blocking out the light of his runes once more. The dragon quietly shrunk back down to its smaller form, landing near Haplo’s feet while the dog stood by his side, sniffing at the air curiously.

 _What have they done._ The dragon’s voice came to him, slithering into his mind with a sense of horror and resignation. Haplo ignored it, intent on making his way forward, finding a place to more clearly observe the remains of his enemy.

The first thing he noticed was that the dragon was correct. The people cloistered in this tunnel were clearly not an army, but a village, and a rather large one at that. Within the crowd, children clung to the feet of their parents, the elderly were helped find places to sit. In their expressions, Haplo saw familiar stories of exhaustion, malnourishment, desperation. Most of the able-bodied adults shivered with cold, lacking the furs that had been spread to others who needed them more.

Their attention was captured by a man standing before them. He spoke stoically, with all the command of a born leader, but he appeared close to tears. From the hush that fell over the crowd, his sadness was shared among each of them.

Haplo listened carefully to the man’s words, spoken in Sartan yet filling his mind with a sense of darkness, emptiness. This was meant to be some kind of funeral, it seemed: Haplo heard words to honor their late king-- since when did Sartan have kings?-- followed by some mild argument about their way forward. And then this man, the prince, stepped aside.

Now another man, who had been standing far behind the prince, noticeably separate from the rest of the crowd, stepped forward: sharp-eyed, swathed in the black of his hair and robes, his pale face almost ghostly by the contrast. In a low, resonant voice, he began to speak words Haplo couldn’t understand.

Haplo watched intently and with vague discomfort as the black-cloaked Sartan approached the body of the old man-- the late king-- murmuring the rite.

He watched the corpse begin to move, saw its soul screaming out with the agony of being trapped, anchored to a hollowed shell. He watched the man, the necromancer, give the creature a command, watched the cadaver’s mindless, soulless obedience, heard the echoes of the phantasm’s chilling whispers.

From the back of his mind: horror swiftly overtaken by a deep, drowning sadness. _What have they done._

Behind him, the dog let out an urgent bark. Haplo whipped around, vision filled rapidly with a dozen of the corpses bearing down upon him. The dragon leapt forward, suddenly taller than Haplo himself and growling out a fierce warning. The dead’s approach staggered at the mere sight of the dragon standing protectively between them and their apparent target. Their confusion was only temporary, however, and they soon marched forward, unafraid.

The dragon blocked their path, tossing corpses to the ground with its long neck and tail, calling to Haplo urgently as they got to their feet once more. _Let’s go!_

Clattering footsteps, and then, to his side, Haplo saw the man in black rushing toward the commotion, his gray, sunken eyes widening at the sight of the dragon.

 _Wait,_ Haplo ordered. “Make them back off,” he called, out loud. “I came to talk.” The Sartan hardly seemed to hear him, so intent was his gaze on the dragon, whose battle against the dead was becoming more aggressive as they rose to their feet again and again, undeterred by all its thrashing. “We’ll both stand down if you do.”

The man’s sharp eyes flashed towards him, and Haplo could see in them the realization that he couldn’t win this fight. He took a breath. “To me,” he called, holding out his arms.

The effect was instantaneous. The corpses ceased their pursuit of the dragon, gathering towards their master to form a protective shell around him. Not that it would be much protection should the dragon decide to attack, Haplo thought, but then, he suspected this Sartan knew that perfectly well.

“Balthazar? What’s going on?” Behind the necromancer and his living dead, Haplo caught a glimpse of the prince’s arrival.

“The dead found him spying on the ceremony, your Highness,” the man, Balthazar, said, gaze shifting carefully from Haplo to the dragon and back. “This dragon appears to be defending him.”

Haplo heard a small melody behind him and then felt the dragon’s tail wrapping around his back as it found its footing on one of his shoulder blades.

He himself raised his arms, taking a slight step forward. “I assure you, Highness,” he said easily, “I mean you no harm. Your guards took us by surprise. If you would please allow me to explain…”

* * *

Haplo conversed with Edmund and Balthazar, polite and quietly curious, privately sizing each other up. It was to his best interests, for now, to get information, just as he had on the other worlds. Still, he didn’t love the idea of playing nice with a whole city of Sartan surrounding him.

The dragon didn’t seem to mind that so much. _It’s a good thing,_ he-- it had occurred to Haplo that the dragon’s consciousness felt distinctly male-- told him at one point. _It’s not as if we could have fought them all._

 _You could have._ Haplo recalled the dragon in full glory, ripping heads off snogs, roaring at the tytans. And he had seen the devastation dragons could wreak in the Labyrinth against Patryns.

 _No, I couldn’t have._ The dragon disagreed firmly and unequivocally. _Even if I wanted to-- which I don’t._

Haplo frowned. _I’ve seen dragons destroy entire villages,_ he said, a bit accusatory.

 _Those are Labyrinth dragons,_ the dragon replied huffily, apparently irked by the comparison. _There’s a difference. They’re built to fight Patryns. They have strong natural defenses against magical attacks._

 _And you don’t?_ That was news to Haplo, not that he had ever thought about it, much. Even Xar hadn’t noted anything like that in his observations. The red Labyrinth dragons did have some resistance to rune-magic, and so it seemed only reasonable to assume that his dragon would, as well.

 _Not to the same degree. As I am now-- that is, most of my own strength is purely physical. Fending off magical effects is more difficult._ The dragon appeared to be becoming somewhat flustered by the topic of his deficiencies. _I can do some magic--_

_Sartan magic._

_Yes, that._ The dragon agreed, rustling his wings. _But it takes a greater, more conscious effort than-- than the Labyrinth dragons._

Haplo felt another wave of discomfort upon him. He had noticed the short bursts of weakness since arriving in Abarrach, but he had assumed it was an aftereffect of Death’s Gate.

 _I’ll keep that in mind,_ he said shortly. In truth, he was beginning to grow concerned for the dragon and these fuzzy spells; instead of easing with time, as his own visions had done, these seemed to be occurring more often.

At the moment, however, Haplo was mainly concerned with gathering information about these Sartan he had infiltrated. Prince Edmund and Balthazar-- however suspiciously the latter watched Haplo-- had already given him enough to paint a compelling picture: the mensch dead, the colossi that were meant to provide heat and warmth failed, the Sartan forced to abandon their city. And, most critically: how the Sartan had decayed, forgotten the true extent of their powers, but for the dead they had made into their servants.

 _How could they have done this?_ The dragon murmured it again to himself, the sentiment slipping through to Haplo, who himself had much the same question.

_I knew the Sartan were rumored to have this kind of power, but…_

_But it should never had been used! See what they’ve done? Forcing the spirit to live on, refusing to let the dead rest..._

The dragon was clearly getting worked up over this, and yet Haplo wasn’t quite certain why. _How much do you know about this, exactly?_

The dragon sighed unhappily. _Not much, and for good reason. It’s evil magic, Haplo. There’s no other word for it. For them to have resorted to this…_

Words devolved into pure feeling: the dragon was troubled.

Still, he wasn’t convinced. _It might be distasteful, but evil is a strong word. You can’t deny it’s useful._

 _Useful!_ The dragon’s wings fluttered in alarm. _They’ve destroyed everything, including themselves!_

Haplo narrowed his eyes. _What is that supposed to mean?_

The dragon froze, staring at Haplo intently with wide, golden eyes that left him unnerved. _I may not know much about necromancy, but I do know this: the Wave corrects itself. For every dead soul brought back, another will die untimely._

Heavy silence followed the dragon’s pronouncement, and then Haplo scoffed. _Sounds like superstition to me_.

The dragon balked. _See for yourself if you don’t believe me! See what they’ve done to themselves!_

 _I plan to,_ Haplo said brusquely, effectively ending the conversation there. As earnest as the dragon clearly was, Haplo knew firsthand how prone he was to bouts of sentimentality, irrationality. Luxuries that a creature as powerful as a dragon could afford to indulge in, perhaps, but not him. Not now.

He was, after all, supposed to be focusing on his conversation with Edmund and his watchdog of a necromancer.

Edmund wasn’t particularly hostile, as far as Haplo could tell. His people had grown too weak for that, he supposed. Or perhaps it was this kind of altruism that had made them so weak in the first place. Either way, it meant that Edmund had invited Haplo into his camp, even offering to feed him.

The dragon looked at their meager supply with uncertainty. _Why are they getting by on so little?_

Haplo knew the answer to that and suspected the dragon did, too. _They said they had grown weak._ He thought it glibly, growing irritated with the way he felt the dragon’s sadness deepen. Had they forgotten that these were Sartan they were talking about? Before he could make the argument, though, he heard humming.

Before his eyes, the fish on Haplo’s plate became two. Soft gasps erupted around them, the prince and most of the other Sartan present gawking between the dragon and the plate, amazed. The exception was Balthazar, who recovered quickly from the shock, returning to his air of calculation and suspicion.

Haplo offered the Sartan a smile, some meaningless words to settle the disruption the dragon had caused. Internally, however, he scowled. _You call that inconspicuous?_

The dragon’s eyes leveled with him, unwavering. _They need help,_ he said. _I’m doing what I can. You might do the same._

Another flare of irritation gripped Haplo, Since when did the dragon tell him what to do? He forced himself to keep his outward expression pleasant, noticing a few scrawny children who had approached, wide eyes on the food that the dragon was already working on doubling again. With an inward sigh, he waved his hand, muttered a few words, and heard their exclamations as the food on the table increased tenfold.

He was reluctant to reveal the extent of his power, but if the dragon was intent on doing so anyway, at least it was quicker this way. Maybe it would lure them into trusting him more.

Prince Edmund watched on as the food was divided among the Sartan, arms folded in front of him, melancholy in his expression. “So you haven’t lost the magic, where you come from.”

Haplo offered as vague a reply as he could, apparently appeasing Edmund but leaving Balthazar unamused. He was the one to watch out for, Haplo decided. The prince was no fool, but he was an idealist at heart. His advisor was the realist, the skeptic.

“That’s an interesting creature you have with you,” the necromancer commented, watching Haplo carefully. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” When Haplo didn’t answer immediately, he continued casually. “It isn’t a fire dragon, is it? Where did you find it?”

“He found me, really,” Haplo said with a cool smile. Balthazar’s grim frown deepened. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Edmund.

“Do they have names?” The prince gestured to the dragon and the dog, the picture of politeness, but Haplo caught his small glance at Balthazar. A subtle warning to step back: whether the prince truly trusted Haplo or not, he was clearly making an effort to appear hospitable at the moment and likely didn’t appreciate Balthazar’s plain suspicion.

He needn’t have worried about Haplo, in any case. “Dog and dragon,” he replied with an easy shrug. The dog sat up, suddenly interested at the sound of its name, and Haplo pat its head idly. “I’m sure you can guess which is which.”

That reminded him of something. _Now that I think of it, do you have a name?_

The dragon blinked, going blank for a few seconds. He closed his eyes, and Haplo was struck with a vague feeling of distress. _‘Dragon’ suits me just fine,_ the creature finally said weakly.

Haplo frowned. Apparently Death’s Gate was still not agreeing with the dragon.

The dragon must have felt his growing concern. _Don’t worry about me,_ he said quickly. _You should eat while you can._

“It’s been a long time since any of us have seen such an animal,” Edmund was saying, reaching down to pet the dog, himself. “Back when things were better, when the Little People were still around.”

“I didn’t think there were any left in this world,” Balthazar added quietly, eyes fixed on his own plate.

He knew, then. Or, at least, he suspected. Either way, Haplo didn’t much like it. The necromancer was desperate. He would give anything for a way off of this world.

Hm. Now that was an interesting thought.

* * *

From there, things began to line up all too nicely.

Edmund was invited to an audience with the dynast of Kairn Necros, and Haplo arranged to join him. When Balthazar inevitably tried to unmask him as a traveler through Death’s Gate, Haplo surprised him by simply admitting the fact.

It didn’t matter, he argued. Either way, the prince would need to see the dynast. If he was unable to negotiate peaceful existence with the people of Kairn Necros, he would still need their ships to have any hopes of bringing them all through Death’s Gate. All this he laid out quite rationally, disguising his amusement when Edmund nodded reluctant agreement and Balthazar went livid.

But Balthazar wasn’t the only one who hated this plan.

_What happened to being inconspicuous?!_

He had to restrain a roll of his eyes. He never would have expected the dragon to be so damn finicky, though in retrospect, maybe he should have after Zifnab’s busybody of a dragon. He had cornered Haplo not long after the journey across the Fire Sea had been decided upon, shifting to a height just slightly taller than Haplo himself.

 _He’d already figured it out,_ Haplo said, brushing him off entirely. _There was no point in lying._

The dragon said nothing, reluctantly conceding the point. Then: _Are you really planning on helping them, then?_

The dragon asked this quite flatly. He already knew the answer, but Haplo took the liberty of responding anyway. _Of course not. Where would I send them all? The Nexus?_ He snorted at the very thought, then waved a hand. _Balthazar, though,_ he added, ignoring the irritating sense of the dragon’s disapproval. _Him, I might bring with us._

 _Balthazar? Why…?_ The dragon turned cold, foreboding. _You want him to teach you necromancy._

 _He’ll do it, too,_ Haplo replied blithely. _He’d do anything to get off this dying world. And if he won’t, then I’m sure someone else will._

A new emotion began to course through him, difficult at first to identify. _Didn’t you listen to me at all?_ Anger, he realized a second later. It shouldn’t have been so unfamiliar to him, but then, this wasn’t his anger, and it was that thought that irritated Haplo most.

 _Yes, I listened,_ Haplo snapped. _And I never expected a dragon of all creatures to be this spineless._ He ignored the flash of surprise and hurt from the other. He refused to be lectured by his own goddamn dragon. _In the right hands, this knowledge will be a powerful tool._

The dragon’s eyes were harsh, so Haplo glanced back to the Sartan around them, outnumbered by their own dead. He scoffed. _These hands weren’t the right ones,_ he thought, flippant. _I’ll grant you that much._

 _That power is not fit to be used by any person!_ The dragon argued, adamant. _It’s unnatural, it’s evil!_

Haplo rolled his eyes. He understood the dragon’s distaste-- he could admit to himself that the sight of the dead made his skin crawl-- but this was getting ridiculous.

 _That isn’t for either of us to decide. I came here to explore Abarrach and deliver the findings to my lord, and that’s exactly what I intend to do, regardless of your nonsense and superstition._ He crossed his arms. _This isn’t a debate._

Silence.

The dragon closed his eyes. Conflicted, Haplo sensed, and he was struck with an alarming realization, a problem he had never considered before. What would he do if the dragon disagreed with him?

He’d never so much as entertained the idea since back in the Labyrinth, any more than he would have wondered what he would do if the dog were to betray him. Why would he? The dragon put up a fuss sometimes, but just like the dog, he had ultimately always followed his orders.

He was starting to realize that perhaps that line of thinking had been reductive.

Oblivious to Haplo’s discomforting epiphany, the dragon finally looked up. _Fine._

Haplo felt his mouth go dry as the dragon moved closer, head level with his own, colorful flecks glinting sharply in the bright gold of his eyes. _You said you have a purpose for coming here. Well, I have my own. I came to learn what has become of… of Abarrach._ Another brief throe of confusion flickered in the dragon’s eyes and in his heart, but he steeled himself, eyes fixed with Haplo’s. _And I came to keep you alive._

Haplo licked his lips, inclined his head slightly, and felt himself overcome by a secret relief. He hated himself for it. He hadn’t realized, before, how much he had been depending on the dragon’s willingness to follow him, and now that he had, it was hard not to resent it.

 _And to that end,_ the dragon continued, _I stand by what I said. Do not take it lightly._

His eyes were still fixed on Haplo, still upset, still brimming with frustration and concern, and Haplo loathed it. He turned away. _Fine_.

Another pause, and then the dragon nodded slowly. He visibly flinched, then, and once again his eyes went out of focus of a moment. Haplo frowned. _You’re staying here,_ he added.

The dragon bristled. _What?_

Haplo pursed his lips, biting back half a dozen responses that he was certain the dragon could guess at, anyway. How Haplo had intended to take this journey alone, from the beginning. How he didn’t want to hear any more of the dragon’s whining about necromancy, or any of his arguing, or any other voice in his head besides his own.

How the dragon himself had all but admitted to having his own agenda, one that did not necessarily align with Haplo’s or that of his lord.

How he trusted this so-called dynast even less than these Sartan, and how he was beginning to worry that the dragon wouldn’t hold up, himself, with these fits of confusion that were coming stronger and more often.

 _I don’t trust Balthazar,_ he said instead. _You can keep an eye on him while I’m gone. Guard the ship._

_Are you certain--_

_I don’t need your help,_ Haplo shot back harshly. Still beside him, the dog looked between them, head cocked, not understanding why there was such a tension between its companions.

The dragon closed his eyes again. Took a deep breath, then opened them. _Perhaps it’s for the best,_ he murmured mentally. Once again, a deep sadness brushed against Haplo’s consciousness, staying there for a moment until his frustration had pushed it away again.

* * *

No more words were exchanged between them until Edmund and the two necromancers of Kairn Necros were boarding the ship that would carry them towards Necropolis.

 _Be careful,_ the dragon said, eyes down. When Haplo said nothing, he craned his head down to see eye to eye with the dog. _Look after him for me, okay?_

Haplo felt his teeth clench. As if he needed looking after. The dog, however, gave the dragon a very serious look before touching its nose against the dragon’s, accepting the task it had been assigned with much dignity.

The dragon exhaled deeply, and Haplo boarded the ship, the two of them parting ways for the first time in ages.

* * *

The dragon and Balthazar watched the steam ship begin its voyage across the Fire Sea, each silently worrying, each wishing their warnings had been listened to.

The dragon, in particular, felt the sting of separation. He couldn’t help replaying his last conversation with Haplo again in his head, wondering what he could have done differently and coming up with nothing. Oh, he could have stayed silent. That was what he would have done, before Death’s Gate had given him a voice. He wouldn’t have had a choice in the matter, and he would have been grateful for it. Again, he wondered when things had changed so much.

Before long, Balthazar sighed, shook his head, and went back to preside over his people in Edmund’s stead. The dragon, deciding he didn’t much like the idea of sitting there stewing, followed not far behind.

His thoughts didn’t stray too far, though. He was beginning to get a feel for this connection of theirs, envisioning it a bit like two rooms with a shared door between them. Either of them could open and close the door from their side-- or choose to lock it-- whenever they liked. It was possible to keep his thoughts to himself merely by keeping them away from this connection point.

Parting ways turned out to be another good test of this connection between them. For example, he discovered that their bond was not impaired at all by physical distance. Even as he came upon the city, the dragon had not lost awareness of his Patryn. To continue to use his metaphor, Haplo had left the door open just a crack when he’d left. He refused to acknowledge the dragon directly, but if the dragon paid attention, he could follow the course of events as Haplo processed them.

It wasn’t much, but he gathered information about Jonathan and Jera as Haplo himself collected it: how they weren’t much enthused by the dynast under which they served, how Jonathan’s family had died of a mysterious malady that was not-so-mysterious to the dragon.

By the time their group was approaching the city gate of Necropolis, however, Haplo had apparently caught wind of the dragon’s attention and tried a test of his own: shutting him out completely. Not exactly a new test, but quite a successful one, much to the dragon’s disappointment.

In the meantime, he occupied himself by watching over Balthazar. This had been Haplo’s stated intention for him, of course, but he would have done so in either case. The dragon had his own reason to be interested in these Sartan, after all.

It was a rather distressing state of affairs. If the worldview of his youth had not already been destroyed beyond repair, he was certain the sight before him would surely have done it. The last generation of Sartan, fallen to their own magic, more dead among them than the living.

And the idea that someone like Xar might discover this power was even more terrifying.

The dragon wasn’t the only one observing. Occasionally, Balthazar would take a moment to stop, pull a notebook from his pack, and jot something down, often glancing up at the dragon between strokes of the pen. The dragon felt his careful eye on him, always, as he went about his other duties, and that deeply unnerved him.

Still, as frightening as the necromancer was, the dragon couldn’t help sympathizing with him. He cared for his people, that much was obvious. Even when they didn’t seem to care much for him in return. The dragon could understand that, felt a long-forgotten ache at the thought.

Balthazar was cold and calculating, but the dragon knew, by now, the hardships and the desperation that could make a person like that. He’d seen the same harshness in the Patryns, as well as the same fierce loyalty to their own kind.

He’d seen it in Haplo-- no, he’d _been_ Haplo, a child loved deeply by his parents, even if they would have called it something else, running as fast as his feet could carry him, pushing past plants that barbed into his arms and legs and face--

He pushed through the Labyrinth, a stinging cut on the side of his face. Blood and sweat trickled down his neck and his heart pounded in his chest while despair filled his heart. He struggled not to trip over his large feet, feeling thorns tearing at his robes. His breath came in choking heaves-- his body was unused to this much exertion, and-- no, no, that wasn’t the right memory at all…

Again, the world around him fell apart. His vision blurred, sound and scent rendered beyond comprehension, and his insides churned with nausea. The sensation was coming in pulses, waves that rose higher and higher, each one more difficult to wade through.

 _The prince is dead._ The thought came to him distantly, through the cloud of confusion that had permeated his mind, and he latched onto it. _Kleitus killed him in cold blood._ For a moment, he saw from Haplo’s perspective: the journey across the plains, the grand wall of Necropolis, a chamber of the royal palace.

Edmund, who pleaded valiantly for the welfare of his people, and the spear that flew through his chest. He saw the senselessness of it, felt Haplo’s unadmitted repulsion at the act.

 _I’m sorry,_ he thought, throat tightening. And then: _Are you alright?_

 _I’m fine,_ came the quick reply. _I’m staying a little while longer to speak with this so-called dynast._

_What?! Are you sure that’s--_

It was all the dragon had time to think before Haplo clamped down on their connection once again.

Haplo must have thought he could handle it, the dragon argued, fighting for any hint of reassurance he could give himself. It was a futile endeavor, for Haplo wouldn’t have broken his silence if he hadn’t been worried. Maybe he ought to leave now, to join Haplo in Necropolis. At least that way he might save one person.

 _Poor Edmund._ The dragon opened his eyes, saw Balthazar kneeling in front of him. _Poor Balthazar. He’ll be heartbroken._ He opened his mouth to tell him what had happened, knowing that he would want to know, that he would need someone to comfort him. And then he remembered: he couldn’t speak, no matter how desperately he wanted to, and the knowledge of it filled him with despair and even longing, longing for the body that he’d long ago stopped thinking of as his.

It had never bothered him before, but that was before mausoleum visits and one-sided conversations left him with the sound of his name ringing in his ears. When he had been nothing more than a nameless, voiceless, pastless dragon.

And still, the waves crashed around him, higher and higher, threatening to consume him.

Coren stood in a large, empty chamber. Perfectly straight lines, perfectly clear glass.

Alfred sat in a room of nothing but blinding white light and crushing regret. He held her hand, though its warmth had long since faded away.

The dragon waited in the Labyrinth, outside the dark, barren cave. With perfect clarity, he heard the rustle of the wind, the bubble of the river, the whine of the dog.

Scattered moments with different faces, but each time, he had known: no matter how tightly he clung, he couldn’t stay here forever.

He submitted to the rising tide.

* * *

“You’re awake.”

He certainly didn’t feel awake. The words rang thickly in his head, somehow simultaneously too loud and too far away. His eyelids felt incredibly heavy.

A warm, rough tongue licked at his face, and he shook his head with a groan, wiping the unwelcome moisture with the back of his hand.

Wait.

He opened his eyes, staring at his saliva-coated hand.

He blinked. His entire chest constricted: he couldn’t breathe, his heart hammered madly against his ribcage. One by one, he moved each of his trembling fingers.

And now he was breathing too quickly, gasps that became more erratic. His gaze flew from his hands to his feet, clad in the same nondescript shoes that had stumbled through the first gates of the Labyrinth. To the robe he wore, the fabric that had once been pure white now torn and dirty.

He could not control his breaths; each one nearly choked him. His vision went blurry, and for the first time in nearly a decade, he felt his eyes brimming with tears.

“Are you alright?”

The same voice. He looked up, saw Balthazar standing above him, staring with a quiet intensity. He should do something, he thought, but his eyes confused tears were falling down his cheeks and he could do nothing, nothing at all.

Balthazar watched with that same expression, as if he were trying to figure him out as he had tried to do with the indecipherable runes of the dragonship. “Can you speak?”

The question rolled around in his mind, echoing dimly. Could he? He wasn’t certain. He opened his mouth, struggling to remember how exactly that whole process went.

A voice reached his ears, hoarse from almost a decade of disuse. “What happened?”

Balthazar frowned. “I was hoping you could answer that for me.”

He shook his head dimly. It was hard even to think clearly, much less come up with any meaningful response. How had this happened? Was he dreaming again?

Balthazar spoke for him, his voice steady. “It’s been almost two full days since the prince and Haplo left.”

Beside him, the dog let out a strained whine at the sound of the name, and he looked down at it properly for the first time since awaking. It had been laying next to him, but it hadn’t stood up nor even lifted its head when he’d sat up. Its ears had drooped, and the glossy black fur had lost some of its luster. Trembling, he rested a hand on the dog's side, feeling its stuttering inhalations.

 _Haplo._ Panic surged inside him again, squeezing his lungs as memories rushed back: Haplo had left with Edmund, they’d seen the dynast, the dynast had killed Edmund.

_Yes!_

Another consciousness flooded through, as if it had snatched onto that one stray thought and was desperately clinging, fighting to speak. _I’ve been trying to--_ The thought scattered, like it was taking a severe effort to keep from fraying at the ends. _It’s gone wrong,_ he tried again. _Kleitus... tricked me. Poison._

 _What?_ His hand clenched over the dog’s fur.

Again the thoughts devolved, and now instead he saw snippets of memory: Haplo beneath the palace, Kleitus and his hunger for power, Edmund’s corpse, to be brought back. Haplo’s confidence evaporating in an instant as he realized the truth: he was dying, slowly and painfully.

He heard Kleitus share his plans with Haplo, taunting him with how he would resurrect his body, use his corpse to learn the rune-magic. With his intention learn the secrets of Death’s Gate and leave this world behind, leaving it to die slowly. With Jonathan and Jera, who would die as well, tonight, in a futile effort to infiltrate the palace.

It was too much to take in at once. _What am I supposed to do?_ It was a question he had long since forgotten. It really was only fitting that it should return to haunt him, now.

He hadn’t really directed the thought at Haplo, but he received a terse response, anyway: _Keeping me alive… would be appreciated._ And then he heard no more, felt no more. Haplo wasn’t dead yet, he was sure, but he could no longer reach him.

He opened his eyes, wondering when he had closed them. Balthazar watched him closely, expression curious and harsh, waiting for a dozen answers that he was nowhere near prepared to provide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not one but two major turning points, here! No wonder it got so long, heh.
> 
> Was feeling bad for how long this took me but then I realized that in the past two months I’ve written at least 21k for this fic while Threshold (which was 16k) took me about three months. Granted, that was when I had classes whereas I worked on this during the summer but. Still. I feel less bad.


	6. Opacity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haplo needs help, and there's only one being out there who can provide it. If only this damn Sartan hadn't shown up, instead.

“We found you unconscious this morning. And then he--” here, Balthazar gestured to the dog-- “arrived only a few hours ago.”

He nodded, on the verge of a panic attack. He could barely even look at Balthazar as he spoke, so intent was he on his body: his trembling hands, his feet in the same nondescript shoes that had taken his on his first steps through the Labyrinth, the robe he wore, long and dirty and torn.

How could this have happened? He didn’t understand it. He had spent hours, days, weeks in the Labyrinth, trying to unravel how he’d become the dragon and how he might shift back. In time, he had come to accept it. He could do things as the dragon that he could never have as a Sartan, and anyway, by then it was almost a relief to be something else.

“He’s very sick,” Balthazar was saying, looking at the dog. “I doubt that bodes well for his master.” He pursed his lips so tightly they almost seemed a flat line on his already-pallid face. “Or the prince.”

The dog whined as he rested a hand against its head. Its breathing was still coming in heavy pants, and it still had not tried to stand up from where it was laying at his side.

“No,” he murmured, miserable. His heart sank as he looked down at the animal. What had Haplo gotten himself into? What had he gotten himself into?

Above him, Balthazar’s black eyes were hard, and he could see the cunning mind behind them working fast. He wasn’t sure whether the necromancer had actually seen him transform, but it didn’t matter. From the way he spoke, it was obvious that Balthazar knew exactly what he was.

Even that didn’t seem to matter so much to him, anymore. He was thinking of Haplo and the message he’d fought to send him, and was only now beginning to process it. “Haplo is dying,” he said, looking up to Balthazar as if he could do something about it. “The dynast poisoned him.” He shook his head, sickening panic rising up in his gut all over again. “The dynast, he--”

He cut himself off, seeing Balthazar’s dark, hard eyes before lowering his own. “He killed Edmund,” he said, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Above him, Balthazar froze. “How do you know this?”

The man’s horrified whisper wrung his heart painfully. “Haplo saw it,” he said, voice soft, like if he said it quietly enough it would be less devastating. Even if Balthazar already suspected, he loathed having to be the one to confirm it. “He… he told me.”

Balthazar closed his eyes tightly, trying to hide the grief. He wished he knew something to say, something to ease the other man, but he knew there was nothing. But Balthazar was quick to collect himself, his face turning hard. “Did he tell you anything else?”

He nodded, trying to recall. It was good to have something else to think about, even if what he remembered made him cringe. “The dynast will have his body… risen.” He shuddered, suddenly seeing it in his mind, and he prayed his words hadn’t sent the same image to Balthazar.

And then he remembered something else, something important. “He told Haplo that someone was going to try to infiltrate the dungeons and recover Edmund’s body. Jonathan and Jera, the necromancers who met with us before.”

He opened his eyes to Balthazar’s frown. “Why would they do that?”

He strained to recall. “I’m not sure,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “The dynast made them out as traitors, though. Some kind of rebellion.”

Balthazar’s lip twisted as he considered this. Then, the necromancer’s intense gaze met his own. “And you say Haplo told you all this?”

The cold scrutiny made him swallow before nodding. “It’s a bit… difficult to explain,” he said weakly.

He felt Balthazar’s eyes on him for a few seconds longer before the man shook his head. “Then don’t.” Balthazar glanced down at the unhappy dog, then back to him. “I believe you,” he said cautiously, as if he himself wasn’t quite sure of that yet.

He nodded, and then Balthazar shook his head, his lips pressed together unhappily. “Our people-- myself included-- will be reluctant to do battle with an enemy in possession of the body of their prince,” he admitted, bitter. “Perhaps these necromancers realize that. Maybe they intend to restore him to us, and maybe they intend to use him against us.” He shrugged, wry. “It doesn’t matter, much. If the dynast knows about their plan, it’s almost certain to fail, anyway.”

“Wait-- battle?!” Balthazar hardly reacted to his cry other than to throw a cold look his way. “You can’t possibly--”

“If Edmund is truly dead,” Balthazar interrupted, “we have no choice but to fight.”

The finality with which he spoke made his heart sink, even as some part of him, like a cornered animal, thrashed wildly against it. “You’ll be slaughtered!”

Balthazar’s eyes flashed, ruthless. “What else can we do?”

“There… there must be something.” His words were empty ones, and he shriveled before Balthazar’s glare, waiting for him to tell him so.

But when Balthazar finally opened his mouth, his words were not harsh, but deliberate. “The only way for us is escape,” he said, never turning his eyes away, “through Death’s Gate.”

“Death’s Gate,” he echoed. Then, with a start, he realized the implications. “But… I--”

“You came through it,” Balthazar accused, with all the harshness he had been expecting in the first place. “You know where it is and how to use it. You can help us.”

He floundered uselessly, feeling the weight of expectation sink slowly upon his shoulders. How could he explain that Balthazar was wrong? “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his hands, large and clumsy as he remembered. _Useless_ , he thought, the single word seeping into his bones, and oh, yes, that was familiar, too. “I… I can’t.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not!”

“To get to it, you would need a ship,” he tried, pleading for Balthazar to understand. “And I can’t fly the ship on my own,” he continued, seeing the other man open his mouth to argue and speaking over him. “And even if I could, we wouldn’t all fit on it, like Haplo said. And Haplo…” he trailed off, heart suddenly lurching in his chest. “Haplo isn’t dead yet. I have to…”

He stopped, realizing what he was about to say.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to save him?”

He shook his head. That had been what he was about to say, actually, completely by instinct. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“You don’t know,” Balthazar repeated softly, looking beyond unimpressed.

By now, the full catastrophe of the situation was slowly beginning to sink in.

Why now, of all times, did he have to stop being the dragon? The dragon could have flown right over the fire sea, burst into the palace and rescued Haplo from the dynast. It would have been simple, and he would have scolded Haplo for leaving him behind and all would be well. But he was a Sartan again, stranded in a useless body in an unfamiliar world. A world that was dying, slowly, just like Haplo was, and it was _his fault_ \--

“What am I supposed to do?” He put his head in his hands. “I’m not even sure exactly where he is, and I can’t hear him anymore, and I… I can’t _do_ anything like this!”

He remembered the last time he had been thrown into a strange body, no idea why or how to change back. But at least back then, the transformation had saved his life. This time, it had killed them both. His vision blurred with frustrated tears, while his own shallow, heaving breaths choked him. The dog whined, brushing against his side, but he barely felt it, so absorbed in his own pain and guilt and anger.

“Like this,” echoed a voice, and it was enough to break him out of the hurricane of thoughts running rampant through his own skull. Balthazar was still watching him, realizing just how useless he was. “You’re stuck like this, then?”

The question was another stab in the gut. He nodded anyway, shame lowering his gaze to his own overlarge feet. Balthazar’s silence rang shamefully in his ears.

“That language that you speak is different than Haplo’s. Closer to mine.”

He blinked, confused by the non-sequitur and the slow, contemplative way Balthazar had said it.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he continued, tone more pointed, now, “I’d think you were a Sartan, too.”

Oh. He was speaking Sartan, wasn’t he? Even after years of living with Patryns and becoming more than comfortable with their language, it was the Sartan language that naturally came to his lips.

Balthazar had no patience for such ponderings. “Are you?”

“I… I’m not…” _I’m not what? A Sartan? If I’m not a Sartan then what am I?_ “Something like that. That is… I suppose so.” He held a hand up to his head, as if he could physically force his thoughts back into coherence. He had to pull himself together. “Yes,” he said, more firmly, forcing himself to look up into Balthazar’s eyes.

Balthazar nodded, eyes flashing. “But you’re different from us, too,” he said. “I can hear it, even just in your words.” He sounded hungry for it, the impression only accentuated by the severity of his features. “You can still use magic, like he does. Even if you can’t change back.”

Before he could think about it, he had already opened his mouth in protest, only to be stopped in his tracks as he actually considered what Balthazar was saying. Because the man was right. The magic was the one thing he had lost, being the dragon. “I suppose so,” he heard himself say, his voice lifting tentatively.

“Then how,” Balthazar demanded, fixing him with a powerful stare, “can you possibly say you can’t do anything?”

A tentative whisper of hope fluttered inside him, despite himself.

Balthazar didn’t wait for him to come up with a response. “The only way you know of to get through Death’s Gate is Haplo’s ship.”

It took him a second to realize he was expected to answer. “Right.”

“And the only one who can use it is Haplo?”

He nodded, and Balthazar swore. “Then I think it’s pretty clear exactly what you’re ‘supposed to do,’” he concluded, unsympathetic.

Yes, he knew, and the knowledge did nothing to stave off the panic that was churning inside of him. “But--”

“But nothing!” Another flare of anger. “We have nowhere else to go! No one left to help us! You left us stranded here, and now our only hope is Death’s Gate!”

He flinched. Balthazar was right, but here he was, unable to stop his shaking, his breathing constricted by the weight being placed on him. Not too heavy for a dragon, but enough to make his knees buckle. He’d had the strength, and more than that, he’d had the confidence.

And what did he have now?

A warm softness pressed into his hand: the dog, sniffing at his robes, the robes of an outcast Sartan. He pet its head, glad for something to focus on. _Calm down,_ it seemed to scold him, looking up with sad eyes. _Stop panicking and think._

So he closed his eyes. Past Balthazar’s anger and his own fear and guilt, he had seen Balthazar’s determination. He was determined because he had to be. This plan, and his ability to carry it out, was Balthazar’s only hope. It was Haplo’s only hope, too.

He took a deep breath.

“It might be too late,” he said, and Balthazar’s mouth opened furiously. “He might be dead by the time I get there,” he said quickly, before Balthazar could yell at him again. “If I can even find him.”

The mouth closed. Balthazar’s expression becoming somewhat less severe. “Then you could bring back his corpse,” the man said, softly. He flinched at the words, but Balthazar didn’t seem to notice. “And Edmund’s,” Balthazar added, turning away.

It was meant to be a comfort, an olive branch, but his mind conjured only an image of Haplo as one of those things, making him shudder.

Once again, Balthazar steeled himself. “You said those rebel necromancers are going to attempt a rescue, too,” he said, crossing his arms. “They might be able to help you. And if they’re willing to stand against their ruler, they might be able to help us, too.”

He thought he understood. Balthazar didn’t want him to do this for Haplo’s sake, and that was fine with him. There was something reassuring about knowing that, anyway: that there was hope, here, even if it wasn’t necessarily his own.

“I’ll go,” he decided. “I’ll try, at least. For both of them.”

Balthazar nodded. “You and Haplo will help us through Death’s Gate when you return.”

There was no room there for debate, and he gulped beneath the sharpness of Balthazar’s gaze. A nagging voice inside him reminded him that he probably shouldn’t speak for Haplo, but he stilled it. “I will do all I can,” he said, instead.

From the way Balthazar closed his eyes, he guessed that the necromancer shared his concern. But he also got the feeling the necromancer still didn’t entirely trust him and would be glad to see him gone, in any case. “I would come with you myself, but...” Balthazar continued, delicate.

Sparing Balthazar from having to finish his thought, he shook his head. “Your people will need you here,” he agreed.

“Such was Edmund’s wish,” Balthazar said. His expression was a careful mask, but it wasn’t perfect enough to keep him from remembering how much the other man had lost, today. He hardly even had time to grieve.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, keenly feeling the inadequacy of his words. “May his memory live on.”

Balthazar nodded, looking exhausted. “We should prepare you for your journey,” he said shortly, and that made him scold himself. _As little hope as I might have, here is someone with even less._

Pity filled him again, along with another surge of determination. “Thank you, Balthazar.”

“And you…” here, Balthazar hesitated, raising his eyebrows to indicate a question.

“I… that is… you can call me…” Name, name, quickly, a name. “I…” he tried, and a name came to mind but he couldn’t make himself say it. “I’m not quite…”

He trailed off, and Balthazar waved a hand. “I don’t suppose it matters to me, one way or another.”

* * *

He’d expected the dog to stay with Balthazar while he made his way to Necropolis: it didn’t seem well enough to stand, much less keep up with him. But the dog was as stubborn as its master, and somehow it found the strength. He took this as an encouraging sign. Still, he kept a close eye on the dog as he approached the shoreline.

Initially, he had been discouraged-- the only ship on this side was the dragonship, and he hadn’t been lying to Balthazar about not being able to use it. He simply couldn’t see a way for him to cross, without the dragon’s wings.

Balthazar, upon his hesitation, had been skeptical. “Surely you can just fly over,” he’d said, eyes narrow.

He’d shaken his head so quickly he thought it might fly off, stumbling spectacularly over the denials that spilled from his mouth. “I don’t know how-- when I’m like this, I mean, I can’t--”

And then he stopped, smacked in the face by how ridiculous he was being. He could do magic again. Real, proper magic. “Actually,” he said, heart lifting just slightly out of the pit of despair into which it had fallen. “I should be able to cross by myself, after all.”

So he stood at the edge of the lake, now, considering exactly how he would do it. With the full use his magic restored, dozens of ideas came to mind, some more extravagant than others. For the first time, this transformation didn’t seem like such a bad thing. His mind danced with possibility, leaving him a bit giddy. He was sorely tempted to try something fancy.

Practicality reigned him in, in the end. It would do no good to allow himself to become too exhausted to heal Haplo once he reached him.

He thought for a moment longer, then took a graceful step, and then another, tracing out runes with a dance, singing them out clearly, and oh, how he had missed this. Despite the circumstances, he felt himself smiling; the magic came to him like a feast he had been starved of for years. Carefully, joyfully, he invoked the possibility that some of the lava was momentarily cooled, enough to create a path for him.

The dog laid down while he worked, cocking its head at the Sartan’s strange movements. When he took his first step onto the newly cooled path of black rock, it stood. It padded over to the edge of the lake and pressed a tentative paw towards his feet. Finding it safe, the animal crept up to his side again, staying near him as they walked directly across the surface.

Before long, the pair of them had taken their first steps at the far shore of the fire sea. Behind him, the rock pathway glowed red, already beginning to melt back into the lava it had been formed from.

He knew the way from here to Necropolis. That much, at least, Haplo had been aware of during his carriage ride over the plains. And he would be able to traverse the distance much more quickly. With a few lines of melody, he took a single step forward, and then another, reaching for the possibility that this step took him just a little bit farther than the first, and the next step took him a little farther than that. In a few short minutes, Necropolis was in view.

From here, he would be going in almost blind. All he had to go on was Haplo’s memory of being taken beneath the palace. He had no knowledge of Necropolis itself-- other than that it was a maze of a city, and one he would have to traverse on foot-- and even less regarding how to reach Haplo. He hesitated, wondering yet again if this was really a good idea.

The dog’s tail brushed against his leg, and he resumed his approach, trying to imbue his movements with a certitude he didn’t feel.

* * *

Jera tied her hair back carefully, then examined herself in Tomas’ mirror. She looked fine. A bit tired, perhaps-- she had hardly gotten any sleep after they’d arrived in the city in the early morning-- but fine. In the mirror she saw her usual, steady self, with none of the anxieties that had been keeping her awake. She was ready.

Behind her, Jonathan’s reflection entered the small washroom, smiling slightly. Like her, he was already dressed handsomely for their outing. He’d been the only one to fall back to sleep this morning, dozing off in her lap on the floor of Thomas’ room in the city. As a result his expression maintained the same boyishness it always had, especially when he gave a slight smile. “You look lovely, Jera.”

She sighed, leaning closer to the mirror to fix an invisible strand of hair. “Please, be serious.”

“I am being serious.” She could hear the smile in his voice without having to see it. He stepped closer to her, and when she stood up straight again, she felt his body, warm at her back.

His eyes met hers, and the smile dropped away, his hands reaching up to hold her shoulders. “It’s going to be fine,” he promised, and then took advantage of his considerable height to lean over and drop a kiss to the top of her head.

She took a deep breath, grateful for his steadying presence. In the mirror, she saw the corners of her lips turn up tentatively. He stepped away, and when she turned around, he offered her his arm and a charming smile of his own.

“Shall we head out?”

* * *

Her worry only increased the closer they came to the palace. The streets they walked became crowded with people. Many of them would also be heading toward the palace, but even those in lower standing gathered in the streets, here to watch the nobility pass by as they did their own socializing. It was to be expected, but still, it made Jera uneasy, as if she specifically was being watched and followed.

One man in particular drew her attention. His light robes were a distinct contrast against the sea of browns and blacks and the occasional pale lanti blue.

Jonathan followed her gaze, then grinned. “Quite daring,” he teased, nudging her. She took a breath, using his teasing to calm herself. No one could possibly suspect, yet. To be nervous would only be to draw undue attention to herself.

So she watched the man instead. He was catching more eyes than just Jera’s, probably due to the white robe; being costly to produce and easy to stain, white clothing was becoming more uncommon in Necropolis by the year. Some noble trying to put on airs, Jera supposed, though beyond its color, the garment was rather plain. And he seemed a bit lost, judging from his slightly anxious expression and the way he clumsily weaved between other guests of the dynasts.

She frowned. “I don’t recognize him. Do you?”

Jonathan shook his head. “It doesn’t seem like he comes here often, though, does it?”

Jera felt herself relax a bit as she fell into conversation with her husband and Tomas. When they had reached the palace gates, they passed by the guards with no difficulty, and Jera was further reassured.

From there, Jonathan, Jera, and Tomas wandered through the chamber, greeting old acquaintances and exchanging small talk, as was expected of them. Jonathan and Jera had relatively few old acquaintances to speak to, anyway: beyond what was necessary as nobility, they had never exactly been socialites.

To Jera’s surprise, more than a few people mentioned the man she had spotted earlier. She supposed it wasn’t that strange, though, as there wasn’t much to talk about in the parlor, where not much really changed from day to day. An unusual outfit on its own would likely have earned a few stares and comments, but the fact that no one seemed to know how the man was had apparently made him the gossip of the night.

“I tried to approach him, earlier,” one woman, nearly a decade Jera’s senior, told her conspiratorially. Jera wasn’t surprised, for she recalled this woman had something of a reputation for consorting with particularly wealthy men. “Brushed me right off,” the woman continued cheerfully. “Seemed terribly nervous, the poor man. I don’t think he’s spoken a word to anyone since he got here.”

“Shame,” Jonathan said with a smile. “He seems to be catching the eye of quite a few unattached young ladies.”

The woman gasped, good-natured. “I’m sure I don’t know _what_ you’re implying!”

Jonathan grinned and shot her a teasing wink, and the woman laughed, excusing herself for another drink. Jera felt a wave of appreciate for her husband. His easygoing nature and charm meant he tended to be better-liked in settings, and she was all too grateful to let him do the talking.

She took his arm as the woman departed, leading them towards the far end of the parlor, where the rather bored-looking chamberlain stood outside the entrance to the dungeons below. As they approached, Tomas weaved his way through the crowd, himself, joining them again.

“We’ve come to visit the Queen Mother,” Jonathan said after greeting the chamberlain.

The man nodded, gesturing for them to follow.

“Hold on a moment!”

Jera turned around to the sight of the very same man in white running clumsily up the stairs after them.

“Have you come to visit with the queen as well?”

The man was even stranger up close: a bit gangling, probably a few heads taller than her, but he stood hunched down, eyes darting between the four of them. Jera guessed he was older than her, but it was difficult to tell by how much; the lines on his face might have been born of stress as easily as age, and in fact the man did appear rather agitated. His face was flushed, and his eyes were red, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well.

An instant later, the man seemed to realize he was expected to respond. “Y-yes,” he said, bobbing his head quickly. “Yes.”

Jera coughed, not liking this at all. “Actually,” she said pointedly, “we were hoping for it to be just the three of us.” Not necessarily a typical request, but then again, neither was this man.

The stranger pursed his lips, and Jonathan stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Jera’s arm. “Perhaps we can wait until this gentleman is finished with his visit,” he suggested amiably, though Jera caught a hint of tension in his voice.

“I was… planning on staying for a while,” the man replied, hands clasped nervously in front of him.

“Well,” said the chamberlain brusquely, likely irritated with the delay, “whoever is coming, follow me.”

“Thank you, sir,” the stranger said quickly, following close behind him, glancing back at the other three. Jonathan looked to Jera, who gave a quick shrug, and it was Tomas who made the final decision to follow.

 _Alright,_ Jera thought, her skin growing cold as they made their way downward. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, and it didn’t feel right. _We can improvise,_ she assured herself.

Their journey was quiet, at first, as they were guided down a long, sloping hallway. When they reached the end of it, the chamberlain stepped forward to open the door that would lead them into the dungeons. Next to Jonathan, the stranger inhaled sharply, looking both surprised and a bit faint.

Jera wasn’t the only one who noticed. Their escort bore a smile of unkind amusement. “Never been down here, eh?”

The stranger shook his head, smiling weakly. “I’m afraid not.”

Jera stepped forward to follow them, coming into step with Jonathan, whose warm hand took hers. He glanced sideways at her, and though he said nothing, she knew he was asking what their plan was, now.

She was trying to figure that out, herself, her mind working quickly as they were led to the queen’s holding room. She greeted the uncaring corpse politely, then nodded to the maid attending to her. She thought she had an idea, though if that didn’t work… well, the man couldn’t be much more difficult to subdue than the girl.

The man in question had gone extraordinarily pale, creeping to the back of the group where he froze, eyes fixing on the queen’s body. His rudeness earned him a curious glance from the chambermaid, all the better for Jera and the others to pay their pleasantries until Jera was certain the chamberlain had left them.

Grimacing slightly, she held a hand to her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said, feigning embarrassment. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling so well all of a sudden. If I could excuse myself…”

Jonathan caught on first, taking her arm. “I’ll escort you,” he said. Playing the part of concerned husband likely came natural to him, in this moment.

Tomas nodded. “I should come with you.”

The chambermaid nodded, looking somewhat put out as she raised a hand for the silky cord that hung near the door of the queen’s cell. “Let me call the chamberlain back, then.”

Jera shook her head, stepping forward. “I wouldn’t want to trouble him,” she said sweetly. A small pouch of gold found itself in the girl’s hands as she spoke. “We know the way.”

Slowly, the chambermaid nodded, and the three of them left the room and the peculiar man behind them. As they left, Jera thought she saw a dark shape appear at the foot of his robes, but then Tomas had taken the lead, running deeper into the catacombs, guiding them to the preserver who Tomas had said would lead them to their final destination.

“The prince’s cell isn’t far,” he said between breaths. Together they turned the corner, Jera using the opportunity to glance behind them. Her body went cold at the glimpse of white robes.

“We’re being followed,” she hissed, heart pounding rapidly against her chest as her worst fears became reality. She knew, in that moment, without a shadow of the doubt, that they were done for.

“Just a bit farther,” Tomas insisted. “There!”

He stopped in front of the cell. Jonathan moved to open it, while Jera turned around, ready to confront their pursuer. She could see him in the distance, his movement slower than theirs, though he would still be here in a matter of seconds. At his feet was a small, dark creature, its movements familiar to her, though she couldn’t quite place how.

Jera reached into a pocket and pulled out her dagger just before the man reached her. Immediately he stopped, eyes widening in alarm.

“Wait, wait!” The man held his hands out, palms facing her. “I’m not here to stop you-- I’m looking for my friend, Haplo. Do you know where--”

More sound, and Jera whipped around to see an undead soldier, bow at the ready. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tomas making a run for it, realized too late that they had been doomed from the start. The corpse approached, taking aim. In her mind, she followed the arc of the arrow directly to Jonathan’s back.

“Jonathan!” She ran to his side. She watched him turn to her, his eyes wide, as she put her body squarely between him and the oncoming arrow.

* * *

“Haplo,” he gasped, falling to his knees beside the Patryn. Without a second thought, he grabbed for his limp hands. For an instant, he was forcibly reminded of this same man sprawled in a cavern, bloody and torn apart and dying. He had saved Haplo once, and he would do it again. This time, for once in his life, he wouldn’t fail.

“It’s going to be okay,” he babbled. “Just hold on.” Words brought the magic to him again, and he welcomed it. It was his newly-restored magic that had gotten him to this point: the one thing that had kept him from feeling completely powerless. He guided it through the circle towards Haplo, and when the anguish Haplo was experiencing bled back to him, he only held on tighter. “I’ve got you.”

Haplo groaned. His eyelids twitched, like he was trying to open them but lacked the strength. Another groan reached his ears. “Who...?”

Hands tried to pull away, but he held them fast, still singing words beneath his breath. Somewhere far away, he heard yet another desperate rune chant, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

“You!” The brief, shining moment of relief vanished. Whatever joy he had felt was now a pit in his stomach, a fear that had nearly left him debilitated more than once on this journey. Beneath him, dark eyes finally opened, wide with recognition, and then they fluttered closed again.

* * *

As soon as Haplo had the strength to, he pulled his hands away from the stranger’s and jumped to his feet. His only coherent thought was that he had to get out of here, and quickly.

When he reached the hallway, the first thing he saw was Jonathan, staring in horror at the remains of his beloved wife. Haplo was about to try to make it past him, back towards the palace, but he could already hear the clanging of approaching dead from that very direction. He could still try, but he knew that was hopeless; he was no longer dying, but his limbs were still weak.

The dog darted away, taking the passage that would lead them deeper into the catacombs, only a second before Haplo himself realized it was his only choice. He followed as quickly as he was able, though that didn’t mean much, at the moment. Behind him, he heard the confusion unfold: urgent calls, the sound of Jonathan’s protests, and then he realized that he was being followed.

He glanced behind him. Jonathan, following the lazar of his wife. Edmund’s reanimated corpse, trailing behind inexplicably, expression completely vacant. And the other man, the stranger, calling out to Haplo to wait.

Except that he wasn’t a stranger, not really, and that was what stopped Haplo from trying to lose his pursuers and make a break for it on his own.

When Haplo decided they had run far enough through the branching tunnels to be safe for a few minutes, he stopped, gasping for breath. It didn’t take long for the rest to reach him. Jonathan leaned against a wall, panting, his tear-streaked face as blank as those of the lazar and the corpse standing idle near him.

But it was the other man that interested Haplo. He had stopped near him, head turned away from Haplo so he couldn’t see his face. Whatever power he had used to heal Haplo and destroy the dead, he seemed almost as drained as Haplo himself was, now. Haplo watched him closely, waiting for him to speak, to explain himself.

When this stranger had healed him, Haplo had seen and felt the last few minutes through his eyes: the chambermaid he’d sung to sleep, Jera’s eyes before the arrow struck her, the dead guard that had killed her destroyed, somehow, by his own hand. The preserver who had called out to it, trying to reanimate it, running, hoping against hope that Haplo was still nearby, that he hadn’t ended up like Jera.

Through those strangely familiar eyes, he’d seen the dog lying outside one cell in particular. Uncoordinated, still unfamiliar with this body, he’d rushed to Haplo as best as he could, wishing he could fly just to get there faster. And there he was, sprawled on the floor, and his world had narrowed to just him…

The Sartan finally spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t hear them anymore--”

He was cut off with a choke as Haplo used his newfound strength to grab at his shoulder and shove him against the wall of the catacombs. The man cried out, eyes wide. He didn’t try to fight back.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man was speechless, mouth opening and closing in silent terror, and Haplo swore he could see tears forming in his eyes. Infuriated, he shook the Sartan, pulling him forward just to have the pleasure of shoving him into the rock again. “What is going on? Answer me, dammit!”

The dog whined. Out of the corner of his eye, Haplo saw it take a seat between him and the man with an expression that might convey mild curiosity.

Finally, the man got a word out, his voice shaking. “Haplo…”

The man cried out as Haplo tightened his grip. He lowered his voice, speaking cooly and deliberately. “How do you know who I am?”

“I…” The man’s breathing became shallow as he made an ineffective struggle against Haplo’s hold. “I…”

Haplo muttered a curse. He was going to get nowhere like this. He released the man, letting him slide heavily against the wall. He stood over him, pinning him beneath his gaze. “We don’t have time to sit around. They’re going to come after us, and I need to know what I’m dealing with. Talk. Now.”

Behind them, Jonathan, too, had slunk against the wall. His sobs were the only sound that echoed through the tunnels.

He stared the man down as he collected himself. Another Sartan, obviously, clad in robes that once must have been nice, pure white with a few simple embellishments.

But even compared to the other Sartan Haplo had met, here, there was something different about this man that Haplo couldn’t place. He certainly seemed as gaunt as any of the others-- worn and wrinkled, deep sadness swimming in his eyes. But maybe it was the eyes that set him apart, for this Sartan’s eyes were not dark umber, like most of the Sartan Haplo had observed on this world, but bright and clear, an unsettlingly familiar light blue, like the runes on his own skin.

Those eyes met his own, and the Sartan finally spoke. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

He was speaking a mensch language, but it was familiar to Haplo. After a bit of thinking, he determined he’d heard it somewhere on Arianus-- was he speaking Geg? Not that it mattered, much. All it meant was that the Sartan didn’t want his words forming images in Haplo’s mind, which meant he was almost certainly lying. Haplo crossed his arms. “Start simple, then. From the beginning. Who are you?”

The Sartan grimaced, then let out a huff of wry laughter. “Simple. I…”

He trailed off, there, and Haplo glared down at him, wanting to aim a kick his way. “You’re a Sartan,” he began with clear disgust, “that much is obvious. But you’re not from here, are you?”

Again, the Sartan was quiet. He closed his eyes, took a breath. Then opened them. “My name… is Alfred,” he said gravely. As if it were some big confession, which was hilarious, considering Haplo knew perfectly well that wasn’t a Sartan name. “I was born in… Arianus.”

“Arianus?” That did surprise Haplo, if only because it seemed an even more obvious lie. “That’s impossible. I’ve been to Arianus, and there are no Sartan living there.”

The Sartan who called himself Alfred shook his head, just in time for Haplo to remember, again, his vision of the mausoleum. “I am the last of my people,” he said, and the pain in his expression as he said it was as fresh as if he’d just lived it all over again. And as he did, Haplo did, too, much to his displeasure.

He ignored it. “How did you end up here, then? And how did you find me?”

Immediately, Alfred’s eyes furrowed, and Haplo got the feeling the Sartan was now just as confused as he was. “Well,” he began. “I traveled through Death’s Gate, of course. A… well, a few days ago, actually.”

His eyes never left Haplo’s, and he could sense there was a question, there; the Sartan was waiting to see if Haplo had made the connection, too. “A few days ago,” he echoed. “So we must have gone through at about the same time.”

Alfred blinked, and Haplo wondered if he’d surprised the Sartan, somehow. “Well. Yes.”

So, there: that explained the vividness of the vision he’d seen going through Death’s Gate, and why this Sartan knew who he was, and how a stranger’s consciousness could feel so familiar to him during the healing. None of which he particularly wanted to dwell on. Still, those eyes stared at him, as if he was waiting for something else, though what that might be, Haplo was uncertain.

“Alright,” he said, brushing it aside for now. “More to the point, why are you _here?_ Why did you--” He cut himself off, unwilling to finish the sentence. What could be more humiliating than to admit he’d been saved by complete chance by a stranger, and a Sartan stranger, at that? “What do you want from me?”

“I… I don’t…” Again, Haplo was subjected to a period of stuttering and flailing before the Sartan answered, a song and dance that was quickly growing tiresome. “I came to rescue you,” Alfred said, at last. “That’s… that’s all.”

“That’s all,” Haplo echoed. Was he really expected to buy this? The man’s nervousness suggested he hadn’t been expecting this line of questioning, but what did that mean, exactly?

“Kleitus is a dangerous man,” Alfred tried again. “He had to be stopped. And I… Surely you didn’t _want_ to be killed and brought back like… that?”

Though no mensch language could conjure images the way those of the Patryns or Sartan could, it didn’t stop Haplo’s imagination from providing scenes of his own dead body, forced into servitude against his own people under Kleitus. He scowled, shoving the idea away. “As if you care about that,” he snapped. “You do know what I am, don’t you? You must.”

His words carried a dangerous edge to them, a blade against Alfred’s neck as he sat trembling beneath him. “Yes. I… I understand,” the Sartan said, swallowing. He shook his head, once again struggling to find the words. “But that doesn’t mean I could just leave you to die,” he tried, voice pitching higher in his desperation.

Haplo already loathed that voice, shaky and pathetic. “You couldn’t?” He sneered. “That’s funny. In my experience, the Sartan never had any qualms about leaving Patryns to die.”

Alfred said nothing, but sat there on his knees, as if awaiting judgement. He opened his mouth, then closed it, no words escaping. Yet more fumbling, and it sent Haplo’s blood boiling. He wasn’t sure what he would have done next if he hadn’t heard the first distant echoes from down the tunnel.

“You would do well to leave, now.” The lazar’s toneless voice-- and the ragged whisper that echoed behind it-- sent a shiver straight up Haplo’s spine.

“Get up,” he snapped, kicking at the Sartan as he scrambled to obey. “Quick, how the hell do we get out of here?”

The Sartan looked around quickly, seeing the crossroads ahead of them, then back at Haplo, chagrined. “Well, I… I _have_ only been here a few days, you know, I don’t really--”

Haplo fumed. “So you had a plan to get in and no idea how to get out? What kind of idiot--” With great effort, he stopped himself.

“To my knowledge, the original plan was to leave through the palace--”

Haplo waved a hand, cutting him off. “Well we sure can’t go that way _now,_ can we?” He turned to look down each of the tunnels in the crossroads ahead. Each one exactly identical, to his eyes. He groaned. Just his luck. Another Labyrinth.

Beside him, he heard a quiet murmuring that immediately sent goosebumps crawling over his skin. He turned to see Alfred examining the wall, running his fingers over it. And just as Haplo was about to yell at him to stop, a blue glow began to light up the tunnel. Runes inscribed on the walls, and they extended down one tunnel in particular.

“Where does that lead?”

Alfred paused. He turned away from the wall and toward the softly-shining hallway, looking almost as surprised as Haplo felt. “Out… I think.”

“You _think?”_

Alfred nodded, and Haplo allowed himself to swear beneath his breath. Being hunted down by the likes of Kleitus wasn’t bad enough, no, now he was stuck with this weakling of a Sartan. As if to exacerbate his annoyance, Alfred turned that soft, scared expression down to Jonathan, who obviously hadn’t understood a word of their conversation, and didn’t seem to much care, and walked over to him. Alfred reached out, raising the weeping man to his feet, and Haplo caught a glimpse of pitying eyes before he resumed his quiet singing, leading their strange, morose quintet-- plus one eager dog-- down the tunnel.

There had to be another way out of here. For now, Haplo’s mind was busy sorting out all that had happened and all that he needed to do now. And where in the world was the dragon?

_Where are you?_

The response was immediate, in that there was no response at all. It was like turning a doorknob only to find that the door had been locked. What did that mean? Was the dragon busy? Ignoring him, for some reason? Did it get hurt, too, while Haplo was unconscious?

He entertained several possibilities, troubled. But there was nothing he could do about it, for the moment, so he kept walking.

* * *

“I think we’re going deeper into the catacombs, at least,” Alfred said between the lines of melody he murmured beneath his breath. “Whether or not that leads to a way out…”

Haplo scowled. Just his luck that his supposed rescuer seemed almost as lost as he was. But he had nothing to go on aside from the Sartan runes glowing blue on the tunnel walls. If the dragon were around, he probably would have been able to sniff them out, but he still hadn’t answered any of Haplo’s calls. He sighed, trying to direct his thoughts somewhere more useful. “I don’t suppose you have a plan if we do manage to get out of here.”

Alfred’s song stuttered, and his steps slowed. “I hadn’t really thought about that,” he admitted after a moment.

Haplo rolled his eyes, keeping his pace and forcing Alfred to stumble forward to keep up with him. “You really didn’t think any of this through at all, apparently.” Alfred cringed, but didn’t argue. “How did you get to Abarrach in the first place?”

It took a second for Alfred to answer. “I told you,” he said, sounding confused at the apparent non-sequitur. “I came through Death’s Gate--”

“But how?” Haplo interrupted sharply, and then he continued with exaggerated patience: “Do you have a ship somewhere? Preferably on _our_ side of the Fire Sea?”

Alfred’s eyes lit in understanding, and then immediately fell again as he shook his head. “No, no,” he said apologetically. “I don’t have any ship. I--” Seeing Haplo’s eyes narrow, he immediately snapped his mouth shut. “I mean,” he tried again, his voice pitched higher, “I went through Death’s Gate on my own.”

Haplo stared. “On your own,” he repeated, flat. “What, are you trying to tell me you just jumped in headfirst?" Alfred flushed, blinking rapidly and determinedly avoiding Haplo’s gaze. He said nothing, and Haplo snorted. “That’s really the story you’re going with?”

Alfred hesitated, then nodded weakly, looking a bit faint.

Haplo stared, incredulous. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

Alfred squirmed beneath his glare, and Haplo suspected the answer to that question was a resounding negative. “I suppose it really doesn’t matter whether you believe it or not,” he said at last. “The truth of the matter is, I don’t know of any way out of Abarrach other than the way you came.”

“Ah,” he said with a sneer, finally understanding. “So that’s why you need me. Isn’t it? You need a ship.” Alfred looked up, expression painted with a confusion that Haplo could almost convince himself was feigned. “Of course. Not so different from Kleitus after all, are you?”

Having finally hit upon an explanation that make sense to him, he was surprised to see Alfred’s face frozen with something like surprise or shock. “That’s not true!” As soon as the words came out, Alfred’s pale face flushed pink, as if he was embarrassed by his outburst.

He’d spoken in Sartan. Similar to the language Balthazar and Edmund had spoken, but lighter, somehow, and Haplo wasn’t certain whether the switch was a slip-up or intentional. Haplo raised his eyebrows, and the Sartan looked down again. “I mean,” he said, still speaking the Sartan language in a low voice, “I didn’t just save you so that you would… owe me, or--” He struggled for words for a moment.

“Or so you might get a chance to take over my ship and leave me for dead?” Haplo suggested mildly.

At this suggestion, Alfred paled again, then shook his head vigorously. Haplo watched this display with something between bewilderment and amusement; either Alfred sincerely hadn’t even considered that possibility and was actually dumbfounded at the very accusation, or he was the worst-- or best?-- actor of all time.

“You really want me to believe that you saved your enemy purely out of the goodness of your heart,” he said, torn between being offended or just impressed at the sheer extent of Sartan arrogance.

But now, Alfred stopped. “You aren’t my enemy,” he said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he should say it or not. The declaration was enough of a surprise that Haplo didn’t speak at first, just stared at the Sartan, who flushed once again. “At least, I don’t think of you as such,” he offered after a second had passed.

With that, Haplo was decidedly less impressed with Sartan arrogance. “No?” His voice was soft, dangerous, and he was pleased to see Alfred cringe. “You don’t remember what your people did to mine?”

The Sartan gulped. “No, I know,” he admitted. “I know about the Labyrinth.” He licked his lips nervously, turning to watch the fingers that trailed along the cavern wall as they walked. “We had forgotten, back in Arianus,” he said quietly. “But… I understand, now.”

Haplo clenched his fist. Just his luck. Not only did he owe his life to a Sartan, but he owed his life to what was very possibly the most annoyingly soft-spoken, skittish, high-pitched Sartan in existence. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you? How could you possibly understand unless you’d seen it, yourself?”

The moment he said it, he recalled the vividness of that vision. “I’m sorry,” came Alfred’s quiet voice, confirming Haplo’s realization even as he made it.

His stomach knotted uncomfortably. “If you know, how can you say you aren’t my enemy?”

Alfred merely looked at him, and Haplo could not quite read the emotions that flashed by. Wide eyes, first-- surprise?-- and then his lips parted as if he would speak. He remained silent, though, his eyes lowered, brows furrowed. “What else can I say?”

The Sartan’s tone was weak, and it made Haplo’s jaw clench. “Nothing,” he said, hurling the word like a dagger, taking strength in it. “There is nothing you can say, Sartan.”

If his vehemence affected Alfred, he didn’t show it. He only nodded. “I understand,” he said, and somehow that quiet acceptance was even worse. “But I promise, I didn’t save you only to betray you. I mean...” He offered Haplo a smile that was clearly strained. “Who is there for me to betray you to?”

Haplo scoffed. “Fair point. Unless you’re lying to me. Because I _don’t_ think you’re telling me the full truth, Sartan.”

Alfred cringed, the attempted smile slipping from his face as he turned away. Haplo hummed, overwhelmingly satisfied. Right in one, then.

Not that it really helped him, much. As far as he could tell, he had missed a Sartan on Arianus, and that fact stung. Even if Alfred was only a single Sartan-- and who said he was? Even if he was sure he was being misled, he wasn’t sure exactly how, yet.

So. What to do from here? He could press for answers. He suspected it wouldn’t take much to force someone as weak and snivelling as this Sartan to talk. But nothing the Sartan said would matter if he didn’t make it back to his dragonship alive.

“Let’s just call this what it is,” Haplo said, making a decision he instantly hated. “You have to leave Abarrach. My ship is the only way, and I’m the only one who knows how to fly it. You’re stuck with me.”

Alfred looked up now, hesitant. “If that’s how you want to put it.”

“Fine,” he forced himself to say, brisk.  “And if we manage that, I’ll bring you back to the Nexus with me.”

“The Nexus…?”

It only made sense. It wasn’t even a lie. At least, not exactly. The Sartan needed to get out of here just as desperately as he did. Dependent as he was on Haplo, the Sartan would help deliver himself to the Nexus, where Xar could wring the truth out of him in whatever manner he deemed suitable.

Haplo nodded. He thought he saw Alfred’s eyes light up in understanding, but it was hard to tell, as he was purposefully avoiding the Sartan’s eyes.

“Where I came from. Don’t you know?” Either Alfred didn’t notice the bitterness of his words, or he didn’t care. He was getting pretty near a subject he would have thought would interest Alfred-- the Patryns, the Labyrinth, the fact that he was clearly no longer imprisoned-- but Alfred only nodded dully, leaving Haplo to wonder once again just what he had seen of him, going through Death’s Gate.

He found himself watching Alfred’s eyes, again, but there was only that same sadness from before. “I see,” he said blankly. “I’ll… consider that.” He frowned, slightly, and Haplo wondered if he suspected the kind of reception Haplo had planned for him in the Nexus.

“You aren’t exactly spoiled for choice,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “Kleitus is going to be after me as long as I’m here. And I’m betting that you’re in the same boat, now that he knows about you.”

Alfred’s movements stuttered, causing him to trail behind Haplo. “Do you think so?”

Haplo shrugged a shoulder, allowing himself a small smile where the Sartan couldn’t see. “He wanted my body intact to study my magic. Stands to reason he’d be interested in you, too. Especially after that stunt you pulled earlier.” His goading, casual as it was, had the desired effect: When he looked back over his shoulder, Alfred was pursing his lips, looking very unhappy indeed. “How did you manage that, anyway?”

But Alfred only shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I did.”

“You don’t know?” Haplo echoed Alfred’s words, drowning them in the sound of his complete disdain. “You’re the most terrible liar I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not lying,” Alfred whined. “I… I panicked. Whatever I did, I don’t remember.” And now his misery seemed to melt into a frustrated kind of defeat. “Believe me, I’ve tried.” A grimace that might have been an attempt at a wry smile crossed the man’s lips.

Haplo stared, letting that little tidpit process for a minute, and then he cursed. “Well that’s just great,” he muttered.

“I might be able to do it again if I had to,” he offered. He didn’t sound too confident about it, though, which left Haplo equal parts derisive and just plain confused: This Sartan was claiming to have pulled off one impossible feat after another, while also managing to seem completely incapable and cowardly.

“It might not matter, anyway,” Alfred sighed, punctuating his thoughts. “Even if I could remember, I doubt I’d have the strength to do it again.”

Haplo snorted. “No kidding.” But, truthfully, Haplo was about there, himself. Hopefully they found water soon. Wary as he was of the Sartan, he was inclined to believe his claim of forgetfulness, at least-- it came with none of the usual stumblings and deflections, even if it irritated Haplo about as much.

Haplo took advantage of the lull in conversation to cobble together a few theories. First, Alfred didn’t much care for Kleitus. Second, from what he could gather, Alfred didn’t much like the use of necromancy by his fellow Sartan in the first place. Both of these meant he had a very good reason to save Haplo-- or at least his body, and the runes on them-- from the dynast. Third, Haplo was starting to suspect that he might actually be genuine, at least to a certain extent, but fourth, he was still definitely hiding something. A lot of things, probably, and Haplo certainly wasn’t about to trust him.

For example, now that he stopped to think about it, what were the odds of the both of them entering Death’s Gate at almost the same time? He supposed that could be attributed to the strangeness of temporal progression in Death’s Gate, but who could say?

So he would bring the Sartan to Xar, along with Jonathan-- he could teach the Patryns how to use the necromancy just as well as Balthazar. Actually, he corrected himself, perhaps not just as well, considering how weak-minded he had become, but that might actually be an advantage for them, in the long run.

He would wrench what answers he could out of Alfred as his supposed ally, and what he didn’t figure out, Xar could find out much more forcibly.

Satisfied, at least for the time being, Haplo noticed that the dog was gone from his side. It had trotted ahead of him, sidling up to Alfred, who was cautiously reaching out to scratch at its ears. The dog wagged its tail cheerfully, and in the soft blue light cast by the runes, a hesitant smile crept onto the Sartan’s expression.

Haplo scowled, fighting his impulse to call the animal over. Just because he was playing allies with the Sartan didn’t mean he wanted the dog trying to get friendly with them.

* * *

Jonathan’s attempted suicide paved the way for Haplo to uncover a few more answers.

The Sartan, once subdued, had kept his staggering pace behind them, still in that trancelike state. Not so dissimilar to the corpses trailing behind him.

“That poor man,” Alfred said quietly after glancing back at him for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Haplo hummed, not altogether interested. “How did you end up with them, anyway?”

Yet again, Alfred didn’t answer him right away. “I came upon Jonathan and Jera when I came to Abarrach, just as you did.”

Haplo huffed. Annoyingly vague, as he was coming to expect from the Sartan. “And why did you come to Abarrach in the first place?”

“Why?” Alfred echoed, and his eyes lost some of their focus as he considered the question. “A few reasons,” he said slowly, and before Haplo could bite his head off over yet another meaningless answer, he continued. “But mainly… I came to find out what happened to the Sartan, here.” He grimaced. “I suppose I did manage that, at least.”

Haplo raised his eyebrows. “Not impressed, I take it.”

“It’s hardly the first time,” Alfred said, shrugging a shoulder.

Haplo shot him a sharp glare, but the Sartan didn’t seem to notice. Another thought occurred to him, then. “They didn’t practice necromancy in Arianus, did they?”

Alfred actually answered him quickly, this time: he shook his head and his expression turned hard. “It’s a forbidden art,” he said shortly. “And there are very good reasons for that.”

“Right,” Haplo muttered, restraining the urge to roll his eyes. “‘For every soul brought back, another dies untimely,’ or whatever.” He heard a sharp intake of breath at his words, and he raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean something to you? It sounds like nonsense to me.”

Alfred turned his head down towards the ground, and Haplo could see his lips pursed and his brows furrowing. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “When I was young, it wasn’t uncommon for Sartan to just… die.” He looked up, then, his eyes staring directly into Haplo’s. “Jonathan told you what happened to his family, didn’t he? It was exactly like that. No explanation, no reason for it that we could discern. No one could understand why young, promising Sartan were dying.”

“The youngest of us were sent to stasis chambers,” he continued. “When we woke up, we were told, it would be to a better, safer world.” Haplo could imagine it perfectly, and not just because of the images of the mausoleum that still echoed in his mind. It was a story he was familiar with, by now: the Sartan losing control of their own creation, and the desperate measures fear goaded them into taking. In Pryan, Abarrach, and apparently, Arianus.

“I was the only one to wake up,” Alfred said. The longer he spoke, the stronger his voice came. Haplo had the impression that he was eager to get this off his chest. “Why do you think those Sartan died?”

It took Haplo only a second to see what Alfred was implying. When he did, he had to repress the lurch of repulsion he felt in his stomach. “You can’t prove that,” he said with a scowl, looking away from the blue eyes that were staring at him with such insistence.

He felt those eyes on him for a beat longer, and then heard Alfred give a quiet sigh. They continued walking in silence.

Discussion of necromancy-- more specifically, Alfred’s adamant stance against it-- reminded him of the dragon. The dragon and this Sartan were in agreement. Haplo wasn’t sure how to take that. Here he was, afraid, and not only that he might die but that the necromancy might be used on his unwilling corpse. But he was reluctant to lose his fight against the dragon-- because he’d made it into a fight, hadn’t he?-- especially if that meant siding with a Sartan.

While he was reminded, however, he should try to make contact again. _Are you there?_ He concentrated on sending the words to the dragon, but just like last time, it was as if he was pounding on a door locked tight. He frowned, trying to think louder, if such a thing were possible. _What’s going on?_

Still nothing.

Trotting beside him, the dog pressed its head into Haplo’s hand. He patted it once, attempting to cast aside his growing concern. He had too many problems on his end. The dog, apparently satisfied with his pets, increased its pace to catch up to Alfred, who had himself drifted ahead of Haplo, still chanting his spell beneath his breath.

Haplo watched the Sartan carefully. He was still debating how much he should trust the man. One one hand, he had the impression that the Sartan quite literally couldn’t lie to save his life. It could be that Alfred was simply the greatest actor Haplo had ever met, but he highly doubted it. Whether he liked it or not, Alfred seemed genuine.

That conclusion didn’t sit right with him, either, though. He had the feeling he still wasn’t seeing this Sartan properly. No, he was still missing something, and he wasn’t sure what.

But even if he really was just an ignorant, irrationally altruistic Sartan from another world, Haplo still didn’t know what to make of that. It had never occurred to him that the ancient enemy might not consider him an enemy, but here was one who knew the history and just, what, didn’t care?

 _Well, that’s one luxury we never had_ , Haplo thought, angry-- at the Sartan or at himself?-- _and neither will this Sartan._

If Alfred thought they were allies, Haplo would use that to his advantage. He would leave this world behind, the Sartan in tow, and then Xar could be the one to wrench the truth from him.

* * *

All throughout the catacombs, Jonathan had lingered in the back. In truth, Alfred thought, watching him out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t look all that dissimilar from the dead bodies that walked beside him. Pallid, sick-looking creatures with vacant expressions, limping along behind them.

Except that Jonathan looked much sadder.

Haplo had taken the lead-- he didn’t seem to want to even look at Alfred, now, which he understood-- and so he didn’t notice when Alfred began to slow his pace. He shivered as he fell into step beside Jonathan, reluctant to be near him or either of the bodies that stayed near him.

“I wanted to say…” he began, speaking under his breath. It was pointless; Haplo could probably hear him, regardless, and his words would change nothing. But he at least had to say them, now that he had the power to do so. “I’m sorry. About Jera.”

Another sob escaped the man’s throat at the sound of his wife’s name. Jonathan had stopped crying, now, though he had not wiped his tears from his cheeks. Alfred’s eyes flicked over to the lazar, but it was unflinching. How hellish must it be for Jonathan, to be so literally haunted by his mistake.

“If I had only been a little faster, or…” He shook his head. It had all happened so quickly, and his reflexes had suffered without the dragon’s sharp eyes and ears. Still, surely he could have done _something_.

“I did this,” Jonathan choked out, his voice hoarse. “You may as well just leave me here.”

“We aren’t going to leave you behind.”

“I failed her,” Jonathan said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m useless to you.”

It was too familiar, and it made Alfred reached out to touch his shoulder, struggling to think of anything he could say to ease the guilt and pain on this man’s conscience. Of course, those were words he, himself, had never been able to find.

“That’s not… You did your best for her,” he tried, his throat catching painfully at how hollow the words sounded. “You can’t just give up,” he forced himself to continue. “She wouldn’t have wanted that.”

Jonathan didn’t even look at him. “What’s the point?”

Alfred opened his mouth, only to realize he had nothing to say. Nothing he would have believed, anyway. He could ask himself the same question, right now. Here they were, lost in a dying world, and what would become of them, even if they managed to survive it? It was still difficult to see what his place was, here.

“Maybe the only point is that someday you might find a point, again.”

Jonathan only sighed, and he might have heard a snort from Haplo, a few paces ahead of them. It was roundabout, but it was the closest thing to an answer he’d ever been able to come up with. Lost in the middle of a labyrinth, saving the life of a man who probably only viewed him as an enemy, he supposed it would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that chapter, this fic has taken the prize for both the longest thing I’ve ever written AND the longest time I’ve spent on an individual fic… so far, at least. Excited to see where this takes us. Next chapter is already in progress, and should be significantly shorter than these last two, so expect to see that soon!


	7. Refinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haplo escapes Abarrach with Alfred and reconnects with the dragon in the process.

Of course, exactly when it finally seemed like they were getting somewhere, Alfred had to stop them. In that annoyingly nervous voice of his, he announced that the runes on the walls had turned into those of warding. According to him, they weren’t supposed to be here.

Ridiculous. Of course they weren’t _supposed_ to be here. But the dog was looking apprehensive, as well, and that made Haplo reconsider his initial flare of irritation. He valued its judgement-- and its spine-- a lot more than he did Alfred’s. And though he couldn’t read the runes as easily as a Sartan, even he could sense that there was something changed about these ones, something foreboding.

“Just open it,” he said. “We’re not turning back now just because you have a funny feeling.”

Alfred pursed his lips, but finally nodded, taking a single, careful step.

There was a sadness that Alfred carried around constantly, but it was only now that Haplo fully recognized it, because in this brief moment, its absence was painfully clear. Before Haplo’s eyes, the uneasy way the Sartan carried himself melted away into something much more graceful. There was something about that contrast that made Alfred’s movements all the more captivating. He turned, feet falling into a deliberate pattern while his hands wrote the magic he sang into the air. He looked almost serene, eyes closed peacefully.

Alfred’s eyes remained closed even when he stopped moving, and Haplo watched his gentle smile turn to something more wistful. Even when his eyes opened, they seemed far off, somewhere Haplo couldn’t see.

Remembering where they were, Haplo forced himself to turn away, walking ahead. Alfred and the dog followed closely, and Haplo heard the other three farther behind.

As they entered this new section of tunnel, Haplo braced himself, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting. A monster, perhaps: something hideous that had been trapped down here, like something he’d faced in the Labyrinth, or an angry tytan.

What they found was much different. Much more dangerous, he would think to himself, after the fact.

Haplo could sense what Alfred meant when he said this place was sacred. Even discounting the remains of the unfortunate individuals who had last been here, there was an energy in the atmosphere of this chamber and the plain, wooden table that sat in the middle of it. He could not explain it, exactly, but Haplo was struck with the feeling that something had happened here, something terrible in its greatness.

And then Alfred instructed him to place his hands on the table, and he was lost, once again, to the memories of a Sartan.

 

...He was sitting at the same wooden table. Around him, the others were engaged in heated debate, but Haplo paid little mind to it: there was a great danger in what they were about to do, yes, but it was necessary. Each of them knew that. They could not ignore the knowledge they received, not if there was a chance of saving their people from the darkness they had brought themselves to. For that purpose, he would do whatever was needed.

Haplo didn’t speak, himself, but watched the faces of each individual around the table. All were completely engaged in the conversation, with one exception. The man next to him noticed Haplo look his way. Their eyes met, and the man smiled warmly, before turning his attention back to the woman speaking.

A small thing, but it brought with it a rush of gratitude, reminding him that he wasn’t alone.

The other man was worried, though. He tried to hide it, but he had never been good at hiding, especially not from Haplo, and his smile had not covered up the tiredness in his eyes. He could see where this was going, probably better than Haplo himself could. He was worried, and he was saddened, too: saddened that it had come to this, in the end.

Haplo took his hand, hoping to bolster his courage.

The man blinked, looking down to their linked hands and then back to Haplo, his eyes wide, mouth falling partway open. It made Haplo smile a little as his hand was squeezed more tightly: always so eager to offer comfort, always so surprised to receive it. It was only fair, he’d tried to tell him. They were equals, after all. That was just how it was.

The beginnings of tears were brimming at the older man’s eyelids, but he was relaxed, now, and smiling openly. Despite everything happening around them, in that moment, Haplo was content, knowing he no longer had to carry these burdens on his own. He loved and was loved in return, secure in the presence of something more powerful than himself. In all his life, he needed nothing more than this.

And then their meeting was interrupted. Violence had been brought into the sacred chamber, and an arrow was pointed directly at them…

 

Still half in the memory, Haplo yanked Alfred to the ground, pulling the dazed Sartan towards one of the doors. It closed solidly behind them, and just like that, reality had settled back around him, the comfort he’d felt ripped away in the harshest way possible.

Alfred’s eyes were wide. “You saved me,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe it. Truth be told, Haplo couldn’t, either.

“I guess we’re even now, Sartan,” he said, breathing heavily, and he felt his body shut down into a much-needed sleep.

* * *

“Are you feeling better?”

Just the sound of that voice made Haplo groan, but it was enough to wake him up fully. “What the hell happened back there?” he demanded, getting shakily to his feet. His mind still felt strangely foggy. It reminded Haplo of the tangled thoughts he’d experienced after going through Death’s Gate, except that this was somehow even more… confusing. “What the hell did you to do me?”

Alfred shook his head, looking down at the dog standing concerned by his side. “I didn’t do anything,” he said dimly. “I don’t know.”

 _What do you mean you don’t know?_ Haplo was tempted to shake the man by the shoulders and demand an explanation. Alfred glanced up, then, his face lit by the glowing red and blue of the runes on the door behind him. Haplo could clearly see the glint of tear tracks running down his face, and his eyes, wide and blue and just like those of the man in his vision.

He looked haunted, and Haplo didn’t understand and he didn’t want to, either. He closed his eyes, then took a few steps down this new tunnel that had opened to them. “We should leave, now,” he said, abrupt. “Before they figure out how to open the door, themselves.”

Alfred shuddered, then nodded.

Now, Haplo noticed Jonathan. His eyes were glazed over, as if he was not seeing anything around him. Still in shock over what they had just seen, perhaps. Not only the vision, but Kleitus, turned to a lazar. A swarm of them, angry and thirsting for the blood of the living, with intentions of killing every living soul on the surface.

Haplo had only barely escaped them. The people of Necropolis would have no chance. How long had he been in his healing sleep? Had they already reached the city?

Haplo’s blood chilled. Alfred was pale, as if he might faint, and Haplo wondered if their thoughts were running parallel. Without another word, he forced himself to stand.

They continued on: Haplo in the lead, Alfred just behind him, the dog alternating between the two of them while Jonathan, eyes still far away, followed. Alfred’s soft chanting meant there wasn’t total silence, but the atmosphere among them managed to feel suffocating, nonetheless. It wasn’t just the lazar, although Haplo was sure none of them could forget about the massacre most likely occurring right above them. Thirst and hunger and exhaustion were also starting to take a heavy toll on them, and Haplo, for one, still felt mentally weak from whatever it was they had experienced in that chamber.

Haplo felt his body demanding a moment’s rest-- that brief sleep at the chamber door had healed most of his injuries, but had done nothing for his actual exhaustion-- but he wanted to get as far from the chamber as he could. Alfred seemed more certain than before that this way would lead them out of the catacombs, but he looked just as worn as Haplo felt, and it wasn’t long before Haplo finally succumbed to his need for rest.

Haplo stopped for a breath, leaning against the wall of the cave, and Alfred took this as a cue to take a seat, and in that way they reached an unspoken agreement that they would sleep for a while.

Well, some of them, at least. Haplo watched Jonathan pass out, all too eager for a moment’s peace. Alfred laid down on the hard stone ground, looking extremely uncomfortable as he shifted around for a comfortable position, shivering in his dirty white robes. The dog paced over to him and flopped down beside the Sartan. A small smile appeared on Alfred’s face as he reached out to give its head a brief pet before he closed his eyes.

Haplo frowned, taking a seat himself. The dog was usually friendly with strangers. That much wasn’t strange, and in fact it was one of his biggest gripes with the animal. But it was never one for cuddling up to virtual strangers like this. Especially not while Haplo was around, and feeling the chill as well.

But, fine. The cold would help Haplo stay awake. Because even though his body was screaming for it, he had no intention of falling asleep now, not with this Sartan and his tricks, not to mention the risk of the lazar coming back for them. He closed his eyes, leaning against the cold tunnel wall.

It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, even compared to some of the places he’d found snatches of sleep in the Labyrinth. He shivered, and suddenly, perhaps a bit irrationally, he found himself wishing the dragon were here.

It was been days since Haplo had heard from him, now. _Serves me right,_ Haplo thought to himself. He was the one who’d wanted the dragon to shut up for a bit. Well, he’d certainly gotten his wish. He couldn’t recall being separated from the dragon for this long, since they’d met. The dragon was such a fusser.

And yet he hadn’t even tried to contact Haplo, apparently. Had he been that upset with Haplo for ignoring his warnings? For leaving him behind?

It was ridiculous to feel guilty over such things now, but still, Haplo squirmed uneasily, suddenly struck with a severe stab of loneliness, almost physical in its intensity.

 _Dragon?_ He felt a bit silly, calling out like that, but he was too desperate to care. Shivering alone in the cold, on hard ground that would not allow his exhausted body any ease ignoring pangs of hunger and thirst... He hadn’t felt this way since the Labyrinth: that drawn-out, aching period before the dog and the dragon, completely alone and haunted by a name he refused to think of. _If you’re there, answer me._

Nothing. But it wasn’t the same kind of nothing: not that door-shut feeling Haplo had felt before, and that made him hopeful. _Are you there?_

He waited, holding his breath. And then, that familiar voice: _I’m here, Haplo._

The dragon was a bit hesitant, but Haplo couldn’t have cared less. At the sound of that steady voice, his mind was drowned in a flood of relief.

 _Where are you? Why haven’t you been answering me?_ Absurd, frantic, and yet he couldn’t restrain himself from demanding the answers, even if he felt too much like a frightened child clinging to a parent after getting lost.

 _I’m so sorry,_ came the response, and the words were like comforting arms wrapped around him. In them, Haplo could feel the dragon’s regret, as well as his worry for Haplo. _I’ve been… distracted._ A mental sigh. _Are you okay?_ When Haplo didn’t answer straight away, he felt a ripple of guilt. _That is… what’s happened?_

The dragon was silent as Haplo, suddenly feeling his exhaustion seep back into him, went over everything from the poison to his mysterious Sartan rescuer to his brief recollection of the Chamber of the Damned and then, finally, to the lazar’s vows of revenge against the living. Recounting the event was horrific, and he was glad to feel another presence, even if it was as terrified as his own.

When he finished: _I’m glad you’re safe._

 _For now,_ Haplo thought, but Kleitus’ lazar and the threat it posed to him and everyone on this world were still planted firmly in his mind, while his body had not forgotten its hunger and exhaustion. _You could come find us, couldn’t you?_

_I can’t._

_Why not?_ He felt the dragon flinch at his demand, and for the first time, thought to ask: _Are you alright?_

The dragon took his concern, and Haplo guessed he drew some solace from it. _Better than I was before,_ he said, and he felt a wave of calmness from the dragon as if to illustrate the point. _Much better. I just… I can’t come to you right now,_ the dragon said. Pained.

_What does that mean? Where are you, anyway? Aren’t you still with Balthazar?_

His onslaught was met with a pause, and then: _I promise, I’m doing everything in my power to help. You just have to trust me._

Haplo frowned, tempted to demand an explanation, or anything less vague than what he’d been given. But there was a heartbrokenness in the dragon’s thoughts that he couldn’t ignore. Wherever he was, the dragon was desperate, overwhelmed with worry for both himself and Haplo. He could not doubt what his own mind told him. Still, he was plenty annoyed. _Is that what that dragon of Zifnab’s taught you? How to be cryptic and unhelpful?_

A pause, and then a feeling like a small trickle of bubbles inside of him, something like a desperate chuckle. _Well, that was only one of the lessons._

 _Very funny,_ Haplo thought, trying to send the mental equivalent of rolling one’s eyes. _I’m beginning to understand how he ended up the way he did._ He was trying to convey his annoyance; instead, he was startled to feel tears pricking at his eyes. He must have been driven half-mad, desperate to feel something, anything other than despair, enough to make him cling to anything else like a lifeline.

 _Sorry,_ the dragon offered, but it was half-hearted at best. _Maybe, once all this is over…_ He stopped there, and Haplo got the feeling the dragon had surprised himself, somehow.

 _Right._ Haplo didn’t say that we wasn’t so sure that they would make it out of this, but the thought was comforting, if nothing else. This situation was a bit like the Labyrinth, really: if you couldn’t convince yourself that there was a chance of making it out, you’d never take another step.

The dragon didn’t reply-- like Haplo, he seemed to have run out of things to say for the moment-- but the connection remained open, and neither of them bothered to close it. Haplo suspected that the dragon was as reluctant to return to the emptiness of his mind as he was. Even without conscious communication on their part, Haplo could feel the dragon’s presence in his mind, and if he relaxed, he could almost imagine the dragon was right there with him.

His eyelids were growing heavier. _If we get out, we’re going to need to get over the fire sea to get to the dragonship._

A lurch of guilt. _I might not be able to help you._

 _Where_ are _you?_ Haplo asked again, exhausted. No answer, not that he really expected one, at this point. _Well, you’d better be on the ship by the time I get there, anyway,_ he thought gruffly, though he suspected the dragon caught the hint of worry beneath.

 _I’ll be there, one way or another._ But the dragon didn’t seem very confident. _Don’t worry about me,_ he added before Haplo could object, and really, he had enough to worry about on his own end at the moment. He would have to trust that a dragon could take care of himself.

A few seconds after he had made this decision, the dragon’s thoughts reached him again, a bit more hesitant, now: _Are you going to bring them with you?_

Haplo took a breath. _He’s hiding something. I know it._

 _So are you,_ he imagined the dragon saying. _He saved your life._

 _And I saved his!_ He would have argued right back. _We’re even, now._

But the dragon didn’t say any of this. He was oddly quiet for a moment, until finally Haplo caught a small strand of a thought: _I trust your judgement._

Somehow that weighed more heavily on Haplo’s mind even than any imagined protest. How could the dragon trust Haplo’s judgement, after all, when he wasn’t even sure how much he trusted it, at the moment? Their last argument played in his head for the hundredth time; the dragon had said almost the exact same thing about necromancy: _See for yourself if you don’t believe me,_ and _do not take it lightly._

Haplo had dismissed him as ridiculous. Cowardly, even. He had been wrong about the necromancy, so wrong, and now it was going to destroy every last Sartan in Abarrach like it was nothing. The thought conjured an image of the Nexus, full of Patryns who thought they were free from fighting for their lives. Children who had only ever known the peace of the Nexus. Haplo had no doubt the lazar would deliver the same fate to them, if given half a chance.

He couldn’t entirely hold back the sudden impulse to apologize to the dragon. It didn’t exactly come out, but the dragon must have caught the thread of the thought. He took it carefully, without comment, for which he was grateful.

 _You should sleep,_ the dragon said gently. It felt nice, in his mind. A little bit like the way he had felt for that fleeting moment in the Chamber.

He shook it off. _I can’t,_ he said, to himself as much as the dragon. _We’re still being chased, remember?_

A breath of mild exasperation rippled through his mind, like a sigh. _Then at least rest. You need to rest._

 _Yeah, yeah. I get it._ For once, Haplo couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with the dragon’s worrying. It was reassuring, in a way. Familiar, like the dragon’s consciousness which stayed near him. He heard the dog pad its way over to his side, and then there was warm fur against his skin, soft and comfortable.

* * *

Of course, such a feeling couldn’t have lasted. It never had, before.

“Get up. It’s time to go.”

Alfred sat up, looking at Haplo with a kind of cautious curiosity. Haplo frowned, walking past him with his usual sneer. He heard Alfred sigh and help Jonathan to his feet.

The tunnels were now beginning to slope slightly upward, which Haplo took as an encouraging sign, especially when they found a few mouthfuls of water to assuage the worst of their thirst. At least, it was encouraging until their progress was interrupted by a scream and the dog barking out a fierce warning. By the time he was on his feet, Jonathan and Alfred had already risen to see a man stumbling towards them.

“Tomas!” Jonathan cried out.

Tomas didn’t even seem to see any of them. He managed to speak, disoriented as he was, and the scene he described made Haplo wish he had not. The Sartan language painted a terrifying portrait of destruction, death, despair, and Tomas, the lone survivor, and running from--

“We have to leave, now!”

Alfred ignored him. He rushed forward, trying to grab the man’s hands. It would do none of them any good. The man’s injuries were fatal. Down the tunnel, Haplo began to hear the sound of approaching lazar.

He could fight his way through them. He didn’t need Alfred or Jonathan for that. He turned, ready to make a break for it, when he heard the dog’s bark again, behind him. Its hackles were up, its teeth bared, crouching in a defensive position in front of Alfred.

Anger flooded his entire being, inflamed by danger and adrenaline. “Dog!” he yelled, but the dog would not move until Alfred did.

* * *

“What have we done?” Alfred’s horrified whisper carried through the empty streets.

On the surface, they had been greeted with carnage, the likes of which even Haplo had never seen. He could look nowhere without seeing a broken body, blood smearing, terror painted on unmoving faces. Men, women, children… the lazar had shown no mercy.

Haplo couldn’t even pretend to find it anything other than despicable. Nightmarish, in a very literal sense, rivaling the horror of even his most vivid night terrors of the Labyrinth. It was a testament the horrific nature of the scene that Haplo did not, at first, hear the hushed conversation occurring several paces behind him.

“Jonathan is near,” he heard. “He’s the only one of you who has opened himself to it.”

For once, it was fortunate that the dog had taken such a liking to Alfred. It was much easier to hear this conversation through its ears, as it walked by the Sartan’s side. “I want to understand,” he said firmly. “Please…”

“If you wanted to, you would.”

“What? But that doesn’t make any sense,” Alfred protested. “Why wouldn’t I want the truth?”

“That’s a question I can’t answer for you. How long have you spent denying truths, Alfred?”

Haplo was suddenly much more intrigued, not only by the discussion of Alfred’s lies, but by the slight inflection the corpse seemed to give the mensch name. Alfred, true to form, sputtered a bit before stumbling over an answer. “That’s… what other choice did I have? What else could I have done?”

“What else _have_ you done?” Edmund suggested. “And why?”

Haplo frowned, but it seemed Alfred was having as much trouble with Edmund’s cryptic nature as he was. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, after a moment’s hesitance.

“Then I suggest you think about it,” Edmund said, and Haplo had to suppress a shudder when the dog’s eye turned to the lopsided smile on the dead man’s face.

Alfred paused, and then said a few more rapid words, mutterings too quiet for Haplo to make out. He wondered what it was Edmund had been referring to. It was damned annoying, how cryptic the prince had become upon his resurrection.

But none of them had time to dwell on it, for it was then that they arrived at the city gates and saw the fire sea, and across from it, Haplo’s ship and the swarm of lazar surrounding it.

* * *

They were leaping across the stone remnants of the colossus. Alfred went first, landing solidly despite his clumsy feet. He stayed behind, despite Haplo’s protests, managing to catch Haplo when he slipped. Frustration filled him, at the situation in general but now at Alfred specifically-- they’d been even, and now he owed Alfred his life yet _again_ \-- and he couldn’t stop the biting comment that came to his lips: “I suppose I should thank you,” he began with a sneer, but then--

“You’ve never thanked me, before, so why should you start now?” Alfred snapped, face red from exertion. “Saving your life is all I’ve done since I _met_ you, Haplo! You don’t owe me a damn thing!”

Silence couldn’t have fallen completely, not with everything else going on around them, but for a split second it certainly felt like it. Alfred looked stricken, and if his face hadn’t been red before, it certainly was, now. Despite the immediacy of the danger they were in-- or perhaps because of it-- Alfred’s obvious surprise and embarrassment made Haplo raise his eyebrow, even having to suppress a somewhat hysterical laugh. “I guess you have a backbone in there somewhere, after all, Sartan.”

Alfred blinked, and suddenly there was something different in his expression. Haplo had no time to wonder about it, though. He pulled himself away from the Sartan and made his way onward.

* * *

And then, incredibly, the _Dragon Wing_ was safely moving up the tunnel that would take them to Death’s Gate. Haplo leaned against the steering stone, unable to even hold himself up.

The past few minutes had passed by so quickly, it seemed. His ship, surrounded by a mob of lazar, consumed with anger against the living. He’d been limping heavily, bleeding out from an arrow wound. The pain was distracting, enough that he did not pull away when Alfred reached out to help him stand.

“Jonathan, what are you doing?” He heard the Sartan’s voice crying out beside his ear.

“I understand, now. I’ve found my purpose, just like you said. I know what I’m supposed to do,” came Jonathan’s voice, farther away, and Haplo watched him walk directly into the mob.

The lazar didn’t kill him, not instantly. He spoke, loud and clear, and Alfred was frozen with shock but Haplo saw the opening they had been given and pulled them forward.

And then Balthazar had been there, demanding Haplo take him and his people with him, He’d offered him everything, even promised him the necromancy. There hadn’t been time.

“You!” Haplo had ignored him, pulling Alfred along with him. But Haplo wasn’t the address of Balthazar’s curses. “You have betrayed me! You betray your own people!”

He recalled Alfred turning back, for just a moment, back to both Balthazar and the place where Jonathan had been killed by the remnant of his own wife. “I’m sorry,” he’d said, so quietly that Haplo almost had not heard it at all. And then Haplo had yelled something at him about needing to get on with it, and Alfred had closed his eyes and they dragged themselves the last of the way onto the ship.

And so they had survived. But Haplo wasn’t entirely reassured by that fact. All it meant was that it was time for him to contemplate what would come next.

Once again, Alfred grabbed him by the shoulders, wordlessly guiding him to his quarters, where he helped him lower himself down to the bed roll laid out on the floor. If Haplo had any strength left, he would have resisted the help. As it was, he could only swallow his pride. Weak as Alfred was, he was still in much better condition than Haplo. If his intent was to take over Haplo’s ship, he would never get a better chance than this.

But Alfred hardly seemed aware of his position. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Haplo groaned. He tried to shoot Alfred a glare, but the Sartan wasn’t paying attention.

“Yes, you should probably rest.” He bit his lip, fiddling with the hem of his robes-- now bloodied and burned in addition to being dirty and torn. “I could make something to eat,” he offered, and his eyes went a little bit lighter. “It’s been a while since I’ve cooked anything.” He actually sounded eager at the prospect, the beginnings of a genuine smile on his lips. “I’m sure I could--”

“Alfred.”

At the sound of his name-- the first time Haplo had used it-- Alfred finally seemed to hear him. “What?”

“You need to leave.”

Alfred blinked, snapped out of his innocent reverie. “Oh.” Haplo saw the exact moment that his eyes widened, perhaps realizing the danger he had been about to put himself in. Or perhaps not. Haplo had, after all, purposefully never indicated what would happen to him once he was in Xar’s hands. Let the Sartan believe they were allies, then deliver him to Xar’s punishment.

Fear, then surprise, and then Alfred’s eyes softened into something Haplo would not let himself classify. “Are you sure?”

Somehow, that look combined with the gentleness of the question was too much. Haplo closed his eyes. He was a lot of things. Kind wasn’t one of them, no matter what the dragon had said, what now felt so long ago. But traitor wasn’t, either. Especially not now, after everything he’d just seen. He was much too tired. “Trust me,” he said. “You aren’t going to want to be around here when this ship next lands.” He wasn’t sure that he wanted to be, either.

 _And the next time we meet, we’ll be even_ , Haplo thought vaguely, falling into a healing sleep. 

* * *

 

Alfred froze. Haplo’s eyes closed, and Alfred could do nothing but stare. He’d been so caught up in everything-- relief at their survival, regret for what would become of Jonathan and Balthazar-- that for a moment, he’d forgotten to worry about what would happen, now.

But Haplo had decided to let him go. Now that was a surprise. And yet it wasn’t, either, not entirely-- Alfred’s emotions were a bit of a tangled mess, at the moment, but he thought he felt something like pride.

He watched Haplo for a moment longer, noticing how his breathing had begun to level out. Then, taking a deep breath, he sat down fully, so that he was sitting cross-legged by the Patryn’s side. The dog pawed over to him, resting its head in Alfred’s lap, and he stroked its ears softly. It was time for him to decide what he intended to do, now.

They’d actually done it. _He’d_ actually done it. They’d both survived. He still grieved for Abarrach, and the thought of its likely fate-- and especially those of Balthazar and Jonathan-- filled him with deep regret. But he’d saved at least one life, and that was more than he’d thought Alfred capable of for a long time.

It was Alfred who had saved Haplo’s life and helped him walk to the dragonship, and it was Alfred that Haplo had chosen not to capture, in the end. He’d always feared Haplo would hate Alfred the Sartan, and maybe he still did, but even so, Haplo had treated him almost… as an equal.

From somewhere outside of himself, he watched himself reach out, brushing aside a lock of brown hair that had fallen over Haplo’s face. He marvelled at the ease of such an action, how lightly the strands brushed against the pads of his fingers.

Hope had become a foreign feeling, and it took him a moment to realize that was, in fact, the name for the warmth spreading through his body. It reminded him of that feeling in the Chamber of the Damned, the one he still couldn’t quite name. Acceptance. Love. Wholeness. The feeling of not having to hide, not even from himself.

He pulled away, fingers curling into his palm as he rested his hands back in his lap. The dog leaned its head sideways, its eyes concerned. He shook his head.

He was getting ahead of himself.

He couldn’t allow himself to be taken back for Xar to interrogate. Not like this. Haplo had been right about that, and he felt a swell of fierce pride at the thought that was immediately drowned as reality began to truly sink in. He would _have_ to leave, then.

Of course, he could confess the truth to Haplo. In theory, of course he could do that. He hadn’t exactly meant to lie, earlier. He’d fully expected Haplo to see right through him the moment he grasped the Patryn’s shaking hands. When Haplo had made his own assumptions, he had just… gone right along with it. But he’d thought about telling Haplo the truth, of course he had. It was impossible not to wonder about it; how would Haplo react?

To the knowledge that his only friend had lied about his entire identity? To the knowledge that he was the enemy?

Whatever hope that had grown inside him was rapidly draining away. Even if Haplo were somehow able to forgive such a complete betrayal, there was still Xar.

So that was that. There was no other way. He would have to leave. He would have to leave Haplo behind.

He stood up. His legs wobbled, and he nearly fell, saved by catching onto the dog’s head to use as a support. What would Haplo think when he woke up and the dragon hadn’t returned? Would he feel his Patryn call out to him again? Surely he wouldn’t want to leave Abarrach without him. Would their mental bond even work if they were in two different worlds? It would probably be better for them both if it didn’t, but he found himself hoping irrationally that it would.

Hardly seeing where he was going, he made his way out of the captain’s quarters, up towards the deck. Would Haplo be angry with the dragon, for leaving him alone? Would he miss the being who had been his companion for the better part of a decade? Would he be okay, without him?

It wasn’t until he was stopped by the guardrail that Alfred realized that was asking a million questions, and none of them were the right ones. He would have to leave Haplo behind. But where would he go?

He stared down at the lava churning beneath them, wiping tears from his cheeks. He’d explored each of the worlds now. Each of the four mensch worlds. The Nexus. The Vortex. Even the Labyrinth. And as much as he wanted it, he’d found no place in any of them for Alfred the Sartan. No place but the one he was being forced to leave behind.

The dog had sidled up to him, nudging him against the rail. Alfred pet its head, feeling completely torn, trying to think of a possibility, any possibility that did not leave him alone again. And then, with an unnatural amount of strength, the dog pushed him, sending him flying right over the rail and hurtling down towards the molten rock below.

He caught himself on emerald wings.

The dragon blinked, suddenly finding himself gliding smoothly over the river of lava. As easy as that. And though it must have happened only seconds ago, he still couldn’t remember how he could have done such a thing. If he were less exhausted, he might have been frustrated all over again with this new extent of his own forgetfulness. As it was, he found himself bemused. Was this going to happen regularly, now, then?

More than that, though, he was overwhelmed with relief. There was an undeniable security inherent in the dragon’s shape, and one that he was more than happy to sink back into. For once, his transformation was convenient. Just like that, he no longer had to worry about what to do with himself, or what to tell Haplo.

(If some other, less selfish part of him knew he could not delay this confession indefinitely, he steadfastly ignored it. He had, after all, learned how to deny inconvenient truths from the very best.)

But he was also, strangely, a bit disappointed. In defiance of his most crippling fears, he had actually enjoyed being Alfred, again: the possibilities opened up to him, some that he had almost forgotten. Yes, even in such horrific circumstances, he found himself grateful for the chance he’d had to experience the Sartan aspect of himself again.

He landed inside of the ship, needing sleep almost as much as Haplo did. But unlike Haplo, he did not fall asleep, immediately, but rested his head, thinking deeply. 

* * *

 

Haplo wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d slept, but a few minutes of examination told him they were approaching Death’s Gate once again.

 _You’d better get here now or I’m going to leave you._ He’d intended hide his concern with a gruff command, but he was much too exhausted, his nerves stretched to the breaking point.

That familiar, steady voice seeped into his mind, soothing. _I’m here._ Before a minute had passed, the emerald dragon swooped gracefully down through the trapdoor and landed at his feet. A song rang out, and then he was Haplo’s size again, golden eyes opened wide.

The dog yipped out a cheerful greeting, but the dragon stood frozen in place, as if he wasn’t sure he was supposed to be there. In the end, it was Haplo who stepped forward, raising a tired hand to touch the scales of the dragon’s head. A heavy breath rumbled through the dragon’s body, and his head bowed slightly, brushing against Haplo’s forehead.

Haplo allowed himself a breath and a brief moment of assurance that the nightmare had passed. Then, he stepped back. _It’s about time,_ he thought, giving the dragon a pointed glance, and then he cast his eyes around the rest of the ship. _The Sartan’s gone?_

The dragon nodded. _For now._

A current of emotion stirred in Haplo which he could not define and did not care to examine too closely, so he brushed it aside. He merely nodded, reaching out again to scritch at the dragon’s head. His golden eyes closed, and Haplo could both see and feel the dragon relaxing, at least slightly. Haplo thought about asking the dragon where it had been, what he had been doing. He had intended to do that, and then grouse about how he’d left Haplo to the company of a Sartan. But he saw rust-colored blood smeared across the dragon’s scales, and felt his exhaustion echoed back at him through the bond.

Whatever had happened, the dragon had been through hell and back, too. He could always ask, later. What he really ought to do was prepare his report for Xar. He tensed, a sinking feeling building up in his chest as he pulled his hand away.

He spent a few moments rummaging around in the food storage. No sense thinking about it while he was still starving, he rationalized to himself, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the events of the past few days. All too quickly, he found himself sitting down in front of a piece of parchment, pen in hand.

As he wrote, impressions of Abarrach flashed through his mind, each one more disturbing than the last. Darkness, violence, destruction, death, carnage, and all of it coming from one source: the necromancy. The lazar, responsible for those images that made his blood run cold, worse than his most vivid night terrors.

And there were other images, too. Memories that weren’t his own, the grief and loneliness of the mausoleum along with the deep peace of the Chamber of the Damned. An enemy catching him, carrying him back to his ship.

Haplo looked down at the few paragraphs he had managed to write. The pen was shaking in his hand, a perfect complement to the trembling letters on the page. In the back of his mind, he felt a brush of the dragon’s presence, checking that he was okay. He allowed it, opening his mind further, letting the dragon see all that he’d written, and all he couldn’t.

A moment of quiet contemplation followed.

_What are we going to do?_

The dragon was no fool. Haplo took a breath and made an executive decision. _We’re going to Chelestra next. There’s no need to go straight back to the Nexus._

As soon as he thought it, he was consumed with a wild mix of relief and fear, and it was impossible to tell what came from the dragon and what came from him. The dragon hesitated, then nodded, resting his head where it had curled up beside the dog.

The dragon drifted off to sleep, soon enough. The dog had migrated to Haplo’s lap, letting him stroke its ears as they grew ever-nearer to Death’s Gate. Haplo was nowhere near sleep; despite the safety of the ship, adrenaline still pumped through his veins. The parchment still sat in front of him, taunting him.

Yes, they would go to Chelestra, first. Collect as much information as he could and then deliver it all at one time. A perfectly reasonable plan.

He convinced himself of this at least a dozen times, but the nearer they came to the gate the harder Haplo’s heart pounded until he could fool himself no longer.

This wasn’t going to end well, for him.

He looked down at the sleeping dragon, thinking, remembering. They were almost there, now; he could already feel the pushing and pulling of Death’s Gate. He had already altered the runes of the ship so that there wouldn’t be a repeat of their last journey through. He and the dragon would be rendered unconscious, only allowed to wake up when the ship came out the other end.

Eyes on the dragon, he stood up, brushing the dog off his lap. Beneath his breath, he began to mutter words of power, tracing the runes in the air. The dog cocked its head curiously as Haplo wove his spell. The dragon had been telling the truth, he noted: a spell that would never have worked on a Labyrinth dragon began to relax the muscles of this one, sending him drifting into a much longer, deeper sleep than he would have anticipated.

_Just a precaution._

The dog whined, concerned, and Haplo spun back to his desk, swiftly crumbling the half-written letter and throwing it aside. With a now-steady hand, he sat down to begin a new draft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote probably 95% of this in a week, which was an incredible feeling because honestly I had forgotten how awesome it is when writing just HAPPENS.  
> But I waited until now to post because it’s probably going to be a longer time between updates, from now on. I’ve already started on the next set of chapters, but I pushed pretty hard-- by my standards, at least-- over the summer to get these last three chapters out before my classes started again. Now the fall semester’s started, so you know. Progress is much, much slower. But, you know, slow progress is still progress and all that!  
> Thank you for reading, as always!


	8. Distortion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abarrach has left an indelible mark on both Haplo and the dragon, but neither has much time to dwell on it, because there remains one world left to explore: Chelestra, where Haplo's greatest enemy lurks just out of sight.

The journey seemed to take much longer than Sabia remembered it, but at last, the ship’s captain came into their compartment to tell them that they were preparing to dock.

Sabia set aside the lute she had been plucking at throughout the long journey to Gargan, gathering up the pages of music she and Sybil had been playing together to pass the time.

Her father smiled affectionately, watching her. He had already teased her a few times about her excitement, laughing to see the spring in Sabia’s step when they’d boarded the swan ship just yesterday.

“That human princess must be rubbing off on you,” he said, now.

“It’s only natural that she’d be excited to see her friends,” Sybil said, a slight smile peeking out from behind the curtains of white hair that hid much of her face.

Still, Sabia felt herself flush. Her father was right; this kind of eagerness certainly reminded her of Alake. Most elves were inclined to take things as they came, neither anxious for the future nor excited for it.

Like her father, who carried himself with his usual tranquility. Sabia knew, from the letters she had received from Alake and Grundle, that this meeting between their peoples was ultimately unnecessary and unwanted by their parents. Her father had been opposed to it, too, but ultimately, he had the wisdom to see that to argue would be to expend energy wastefully and accepted that they would have to make the journey.

On the other hand, Sabia was fairly certain that Sybil was as eager to land as Sabia was. She hadn’t looked very comfortable during their trip, here-- seasickness was something they both had in common, and it was only Sybil’s song that had eased both of their stomachs on this journey-- but upon word of their imminent landing, she suddenly seemed in a much brighter mood.

At the woman’s words, her father’s smile tensed, but he nodded all the same. “I suppose it won’t be long until the three of you can visit each other every day,” he offered to Sabia.

She nodded, but the warmth that had been growing inside of her now dimmed, seeing the clear sadness her father tried to hide. The prospect of their move away from Elmas, where so many of the elves’ memories had been made, had weighed heavily on all of their minds for years, now. There was no way to avoid it, though, and so her father was putting on a brave, optimistic face. As sad as it made Sabia to see, she watched him carefully, knowing that someday, she, too, would need to have the strength to push aside her own needs for the sake of her people. Grundle had that strength, she was sure, and even Alake, who was maturing faster than Sabia knew how to keep up with. As for Sabia… well, she had time, she reminded herself, trying to mirror her father’s expression. Yes, that was right. She had plenty of time to become the leader her people deserved.

They didn’t have to wait much longer until the time came to disembark. When the captain arrived for them, Sybil demurred respectfully to her father, allowing him to exit first, and then Sabia behind him. Sabia always felt short and clumsy, between the two of them; Sybil was quite tall, matching her father’s height, and was as graceful as any elf.

One by one, they stepped out onto Gargan’s beach. Sabia’s eyes flit across the beach, looking for any evidence of the Phondran’s ships or perhaps a dwarf maiden waiting to greet her, though she knew the latter was unlikely. Grundle was sure to be busy christening her boats-- whenever she wasn’t complaining about the preparations and the pointless meetings, she’d been talking of almost nothing else in her most recent letters.

A gentle hand touched Sabia’s shoulder. “There they are,” Sybil said, pointing up the beach.

Sure enough, much farther up the shore was another ship: a human ship. A few minutes later, Sabia spotted a small group of humans headed down to meet them, and finally caught sight of the particular human she’d been wanting to see.

Alake brightened when she was Sabia wave, saying something to her mother before running ahead to meet Sabia. Sabia beamed, stepping forward to embrace her friend, who had stopped short just before reaching them, her dark eyes flickering nervously behind Sabia. Sabia ignored the moment of hesitation, enveloping her friend in her arms and feeling Alake hug her back, nervousness lessened. Their parents may have become more wary of each other in the past few years, but fortunately, it hadn’t managed to come between childhood friends.

“It’s so good to see you!” Sabia said in well-practiced human, pulling away to see Alake properly. Humans could change so alarmingly in so little time, she thought, not for the first time. “When did you get here?”

Alake’s eyes were shining, a sure sign that she was pleased to see Sabia, too. Still, she looked just a bit awkward, averting her eyes when she answered. “We were only a few minutes ahead of you, actually. My mother was surprised to see you here, already.”

“We can be on time when we have to be, you know,” Sabia said, teasing.

Alake’s lips twitched in an awkward smile. “Yeah.”

Silence fell between them, and again, Alake’s eyes drifted away from them to the sandy beach below. Behind Sabia, a throat cleared softly.

“I’m glad to see you are well, Alake,” came Sybil’s tinkling voice, also speaking polite human. “Is…” She hesitated, sea-green eyes flickering behind them, to where the rest of the humans had almost reached them. “Is Frida not with your parents?”

Alake clasped her hands in front of her. “Oh, well, she was actually busy helping with other preparations when we left,” she said quickly. “She told us to go on ahead.”

“Oh, I see,” Sybil said, visible disappointment flickering across her features before she forced a pleasant smile, instead.

“She said she would be here for the meeting, though,” Alake offered, her tone still somehow stilted.

Sybil nodded. “Well, then, I suppose I’ll just leave you two to visit.”

Alake smiled politely, giving a little wave as Sybil turned to make her way back to Sabia’s father, just in time to greet Alake’s parents. As soon as the woman was out of earshot, though, Alake’s shoulders slumped, and she shook her head, black braids swaying around her cheeks.

“Don’t you get tired of her standing over your shoulder like that all the time?”

Sabia shrugged slightly. “It isn’t all the time.”

It really wasn’t. It was her father, more than anyone, who Sybil hovered over. The majority of the elves in the castle were quite cautious of the woman, but of course the king could not afford to offend her. As a result, Sabia, too, had grown fairly used to her presence. There was an uncertain manner about it, but they conversed regularly, and even sometimes played music together, like they had earlier today on the swan ship.

But Alake looked skeptical, so Sabia merely shrugged. “She isn’t Bridgit,” she said, by way of explanation.

She earned a half-grin from Alake for that comment. “True,” she said, confirming Sabia’s suspicion that her last dozen letters from Grundle had been smattered with similar complaints. Normally, Grundle’s stubbornness was a reliable source of amusement for both of them. Still, the smile slipped off both their faces quickly. It was different, knowing that Grundle had very good reasons for her frustration.

“What about you?” Sabia asked, more seriously, now. “Has everything been… alright? With…?”

Alake tilted her head neutrally, her right hand fiddling with one of the jangly bracelets around her left wrist. “It’s been fine. She’s not exactly around enough to cause much trouble.”

Sabia nodded, pursing her lips. Alake had mentioned that before, how Frida met with various chieftains in their villages all across Phondra, returning only periodically to check in on Alake’s parents. Alake had never held the same ire Grundle held for Bridgit towards her, but neither had she developed anything like the tentative bond Sabia had with Sybil.

“All of our preparations for the move have been going smoothly, so that’s the important thing,” Alake concluded, bringing both of her hands back to her sides, standing taller. Just as Sabia decided Alake’s new air of authority had impressed her, the human waved a hand, rolling her eyes. “Of course, apparently we have to have this meeting, anyway.”

Sabia only sighed in response. What could she say? It was true.

“Look,” Alake said suddenly, nudging Sabia’s arm and gesturing over her shoulder. Sabia turned behind her to see that Sybil had abandoned her place by the king’s side, choosing instead to make her way down the beach in the other direction past the elves’ docked swan ships. As they watched, she broke into a run, quickly approaching a figure in the distance: a human, watching the surf wave up and down the beach. She seemed to be playing a game with it: following the foamy wisps of water as close as possible before darting out of the way just in time for the lip to come spilling back up the beach again.

“I guess she found who she was looking for,” Alake said. Sabia blinked, confused, and watched as Sybil reached the woman, making some gesture of greeting and then embracing her. It was only then that she saw past the woman’s clothing, which was clearly Phondran, to notice her crown of curly white hair, spiralling outward to brown tips.

It was impossible to say what they were speaking about. Sabia wondered about the possibility of eavesdropping, but decided there was no place close enough or inconspicuous enough to manage such a feat.

At that moment, Sabia noticed a new figure, coming from the direction of the city. She walked swiftly past Dumaka and Delu and the rest of the humans, hardly casting them a glance. Nor did she greet Sabia’s father, but passed right by him, and then Sabia and Alake watched her stride past them. Bridgit-- Sabia could hardly fail to recognize her-- was not quite as tall as Sybil, but by far more imposing, though perhaps that was merely due to Grundle’s stories. Her face was a mask, her gray eyes focused on the figures ahead of her, her expression mostly neutral but for the way her mouth twisted slightly. Neither Sabia nor Alake said anything as she made her way past them, and then they quietly watched her retreating figure, pure white robes and hair swishing behind her.

The other two noticed Bridgit’s approach before she reached them, and began walking to meet her. The result was that they now stood near enough that eavesdropping was suddenly a much more attractive possibility.

“Sybil. Frida.” Bridgit’s voice was sharp enough to be clearly heard even over the sound of waves crashing and elves and humans bustling about, but Sabia was surprised to hear a measure of warmth in it, too.

“I’m pleased to see you again, Sister.” Sybil’s voice floated, soft around the elven words, making her much more difficult to hear, but Sabia could see that her lips had turned up into one of her rare smiles. She turned to Frida, eyes lighting up. “And you too, of course. I thought you’d be on the boat with the humans!”

A harder, more impatient voice. “Well, that _is_ where she should have been.”

“Oh, don’t be like that from the very beginning,” came Frida’s cheerful response. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

A pause that was probably a sigh, and then, resigned: “Indeed.”

“Alake told me you were assisting with the humans’ preparations,” Sybil continued.

At Sabia’s side, Alake flinched at the sound of her name. “I guess I was,” Frida replied, unconcerned. Her dark eyes glanced between her two fellows, and then she let out a huff of laughter. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, it’s much more interesting there than it is on those boats.”

In response came laughter that Sabia was surprised to realize belonged to Sybil. “I’m not looking at you like anything,” she said, amused.

It was strange, Sabia decided, how casual their conversation was. Such a serious subject-- the migration of their kingdoms-- spoken of so lightly, as if it was all nothing more than a curiosity, instead of something that would affect the lives of thousands.

A moment of silence. “Well,” Bridgit said, and for the first time, a hint of uncertainty crept into her tone. “Their ceremony should be finishing shortly”-- she said _ceremony_ with a thin layer of scorn-- “and then we can get down to business.” Her gray eyes flickered to Frida. “You might consider changing into more proper attire.”

“I don’t know why you were so insistent on this meeting in the first place,” Frida remarked, either not catching the barb or purposefully ignoring it. “The Phondrans have everything well in hand, and I’m sure it’s the same with Elmas and Gargan.”

“I believe it’s important to meet in person and see to it that everything is understood,” Bridgit replied stiffly.

“I know, I know. Well, lead the way, then, Me--”

“Bridgit,” came a particularly stern interruption.

“Right, sorry,” Frida said, not sounding particularly sorry. “I wasn’t thinking, since it’s just the three of us here.”

The taller woman sighed loudly enough for Sabia and Alake to hear it even where they stood. With varying looks of amusement and exasperation, the three of them turned to begin walking back towards the city.

Sabia turned to Alake, feeling rather disappointed that their eavesdropping hadn’t turned up anything noteworthy. Certainly nothing worth bragging about to Grundle, later. That was how it was, sometimes, but one would hope that spying on the likes of the Sartan would yield something a little more interesting.

The pair of them were about to make their way back towards the ships, themselves, when they heard the yelling, the splashing from the direction of the ships. Sabia strained to see what was happening up the beach, watching a huge, smoke-dark cloud begin to form in the far distance. Nearer to them, the Goodsea stirred, waves crashing more heavily, the water seeming to darken before Sabia’s eyes. She turned towards Alake, whose eyes had gone wide, and before she could give it another thought, the two of them were running heavy steps through the sandy beach, towards whatever chaos was unfolding before them.

* * *

He was asleep. Deeply and completely asleep. It was a satisfying, restful moment, especially for a mind and body strained by the near-death experiences of Abarrach. For once, his mind was clear and untroubled, placid as the still surface of a lake, floating peacefully.

And then a single thought rippled across the surface. Fear.

Just a single thought, quickly smoothed over, the feeling spreading outwards, through his fingertips, and away to nothingness. And then again, that disturbance, only this time it wasn’t just fear, but _pain_. Muted at first, as if there were some kind of insulation between him and its source, but the ripples quickly grew into waves, which grew into tsunamis that hurled him aside, dragging him into the depths. Ice cold water forced its way into his lungs, searing him from the inside, worsening when he tried to cry out, terrified and ashamed.

He was flung upside-down, his claws desperately digging into the layer of ice that trapped him in water that was acid seeping into every pore, and he was suffocating, unable to escape--

And then, just when he thought he could take no more of it, the pain ended. The water surrounding him was now cool and sweet against the soreness of his limbs. It was a relief, but not enough to rid him of a regret almost as painful in its intensity. He wanted to scream or sob or lash out, anything to rid himself of it, but he could hardly even move. He was trapped, floating beneath the surface.

* * *

The dragon woke up trembling.

It took a second to remember exactly where he was: not pinned beneath ice or glass, but curled up on the floor of Haplo’s quarters on the dragonship, which was floating through space. They must have gone through Death’s Gate already. Everything was fine.

The knowledge relaxed him, but it wasn't enough. He felt for the bond he shared with Haplo, feeling the comforting presence of it in his mind, but there was no direct answer to his nervous nudges. It was nothing alarming, of course; Haplo could simply be asleep, as the dragon had been only moments ago.

The dragon steadfastly ignored his immediate thought-- that it would be strange for Haplo to fall asleep outside of his quarters-- in favor of prowling about the ship, searching out his companion.

And find him he did, in a state that made his quickly-beating heart stop in its tracks: Haplo was sprawled out on the floor, collapsed beneath the ladder that led up to the main deck. Naked and covered in sweat, the dragon was actually somewhat relieved to see him shivering madly, if only to prove that the man was merely unconscious. As it was, he froze for a moment of panic and then rushed to him, searching the bond for a sign of what could be wrong, madly trying to heal Haplo. His efforts were futile, however, for Haplo was perfectly healthy, for all the dragon could tell. Perfectly alright, except in all the ways that this was so obviously wrong.

His efforts stopped Haplo’s shivering, at least. His mind stirred as the dragon closed the circle between them, only to almost instantly construct a barrier between them. Almost, because for the briefest flash of a moment, the dragon could feel Haplo’s pain and a deep, consuming shame, and something else, too: a glimpse of Xar’s face, those cold eyes staring down.

The answer hit him at once. Haplo had gone back to the Nexus. He had told Xar everything. And Xar had not been pleased.

The realization struck an icy blow. The dragon felt physically ill, anxiety washing over him as he uselessly paced around the ship. His mind raced, trying to think of a way he might be wrong about this and feeling sicker by the minute. He managed to find a blanket with which to cover Haplo. It was the only thing he could do until the Patryn woke up on his own.

Well, the only thing besides brood and become overwhelmed with guilt, because how could he have slept through this? He should have been there. He should have stopped this. Instead, he had slept through it, and now the nightmare he had suffered took an even darker turn.

That hadn’t been a natural sleep. The dragon was suddenly certain of it. Someone had done that to him on purpose.

A new wave of emotion filled him, just as Haplo finally began to stir, and it was one that he could not fully identify. Every quickening heartbeat sent a rush of heat through his bloodstream until it began to felt like his very blood was boiling. The sight of Haplo shifting, opening his eyes, sitting up with a groan seemed to soothe the onslaught of emotion. But then the Patryn’s hands, usually so strong and sure, were shaking as they drifted up to touch his heart rune. The Patryn shuddered, and the dragon felt his every muscle tense almost painfully. He was burning again, and he heard a snarling sound echo through the dragonship that he realized a second later was his own.

Only at that sound did Haplo finally seem to notice the dragon curled protectively over him.

_What. Happened?_

Haplo glanced up, taking in the dragon’s stance, no doubt feeling the uncontrollable torrent through the bond. Without a word, he placed a hand against the dragon’s scales-- the dragon wondered that they weren’t burning hot to the touch-- and used him to steady his body as the Patryn stood. His eyes scanned the ship, seeing that they were in the air already.

 _Haplo, what happened?_ The dragon insisted, struggling to contain himself. _You told me we were going to Chelestra._

“And we did,” Haplo said simply, but his voice was hoarse, hollow, even, and the dragon didn’t want to think about why that might be, and how could he stand there acting so calmly when the dragon was struggling even to breathe?

Haplo said nothing more, but he didn’t walk away, either, and an expectant silence filled the ship. The dragon took a deliberate breath, hoping to steady himself. _Are you okay?_

“Fine,” Haplo said shortly.

 _You were hurt,_ the dragon said, quickly losing the little control he'd had over his feelings. _He_ _hurt_ _you,_ he said, feeling memories of his earlier nightmare welling up, spilling over the bond: vague feelings of distress, of being trapped, fleeting shadows of pain and guilt and shame. Haplo visibly flinched, cutting off the stream of thought, and snatched up the blanket the dragon had brought for him.

“I’m _fine,”_ he snapped, shooting the thought through the bond with equal sharpness, and the dragon was relieved for the strength of the connection, even if it meant feeling Haplo’s bubbling anger.

 _No, you’re not._ Haplo didn’t move, but clutched at the blanket, his knuckles white. _You put me to sleep. Didn’t you?_

Haplo didn’t respond to the accusation; he didn’t need to. _Why would you…?_ The dragon’s tail flicked up and down, a frustrated whine escaping his throat. _I could have stopped this,_ he thought fiercely, and his blood was boiling again, and he couldn’t stand still. _I would have-- I would have--_

He would have tossed Xar aside, just like he had thrown aside any other vile monster the Labyrinth conjured. He would have ripped Xar’s throat out just as easily, for daring to lay a finger on his Patryn. The feeling burning through him like fire was unmistakable, now: he’d never been so fiercely angry in all his life, and somewhere, distantly, that thought frightened him, but not enough to keep him from wishing he’d been there to act on it.

“You think I don’t realize that?” Haplo said sharply, snapping the dragon’s attention back to the present, to Haplo’s eyes fixed sternly on his, and then Haplo turned away. “Now just leave it alone,” he ordered, taking a few steps back towards his quarters.

In those few steps, everything clicked together into a clear, terrible realization. _You were protecting him._

Haplo stopped, his back to the dragon.

Of course he was. Of course Haplo had known what would happen if he chose to return to the Nexus. Of course he had known exactly how the dragon would respond, and if Abarrach had taught him anything, it was that he might be able to order the dog around, but the dragon was another story.

“He is my lord,” Haplo said. Simply, but coldly.

The dragon knew there was a barb at him in that, but he didn’t care at the moment, too overwhelmed with half-formed thoughts. _He hurt you,_ he said, and his mind echoed dimly with the rest-- he tortured you, he sent you through Death’s Gate completely vulnerable and left you for dead-- but these he shook away with a growl, saying instead: _You should have let me protect_ _you._

“Right,” Haplo growled, snapping back around to glare vicious daggers the dragon’s way. “Protect me. Because you managed _that_ so well back in Abarrach, didn’t you?” Before the dragon could react, he threw up his hands. “Oh, wait, you ran off to who-the-hell-knows-where and left me in the hands of that damned Sartan!”

The effect was as if he had been slapped, anger immediately melting away to guilt. Pure, all-consuming guilt, his stomach churning, his bones turning to dust. This had happened because Haplo had felt compelled to let Alfred go, because the dragon hadn’t been there. This was his fault.

The dragon trembled, and Haplo only looked more angry, now, but not at the dragon; he shook his head, eyes lowering the ground, a shaking hand clutching at his head. “Stop it, already,” he snarled. “Don’t you understand? I _chose_ this! It was my own foolishness in letting that damned Sartan escape, and my own cowardice in trying to lie to my lord. The choice was mine, and so were the consequences, so you can just shut the hell up about having to _protect_ me from anything! If you actually want to be helpful, then stay the hell out of my head and just let me get on with this!”

His eyes darted up to the dragon’s, as if daring him to disagree. He didn’t. Haplo’s anger was too shocking, too overpowering, but now the dragon could see the shame and guilt it was meant to disguise.

With that, Haplo turned around again, heading towards the captain’s quarters, leaving the dragon to think on that.

A new round of crippling guilt hit him, because this really was his fault, in more ways than one. It was his actions as Alfred, that had led Haplo to this. If he had only been able to control this...

But that wasn’t quite right. The dragon was willing to admit that, even if he didn’t completely feel it. This had happened because Xar, Haplo’s lord, his father, the man he trusted with his life and soul, had used Haplo’s loyalty against him. Had hurt him, willingly, and Haplo had let him because he had been made to believe he deserved all of it. And still, instead of worrying about himself, Haplo had put the dragon to sleep to protect Xar. To protect Xar… and perhaps, the dragon thought, sickened, to protect him, as well.

Oh, his poor Haplo. He wanted to cry, was sure he would be crying if he could. The whole thing was nothing short of horrific, and yet there was little the dragon could do now, besides feel sick with worry and pity. It wasn’t until Haplo returned, newly clothed, his face hard as stone, that the dragon realized the other alarming thing about this situation: he had not seen the dog at all since he had woken up. Worry clouded his heart once more as he swung his head around, searching in vain for a glimpse of a wagging tail or a greasy nose. Nothing. And he knew with sudden certainty, without having to check, that he would not hear or smell the animal anywhere else on the ship.

There wasn’t time for a new round of fretting over Haplo, though, because at that moment the dragonship plunged into a wall of water, and the dragon had just enough time to realize that he possibly should have seen this coming before the water seeped into the ship, engulfing both of them, consuming his senses, just like it had in his dream.

* * *

Grundle was beginning to wonder if their plan was foolish.

Well, that wasn’t quite fair. The plan was good: the only plan that made any sense. But it was difficult to find yourself on a suicide mission in a submarine piloted by an unseen evil force with a wizardess-in-training, a cross-dressing elf, and a half-drowned Sartan man with a tiny dragon wrapped around him without wondering if you had missed a beat somewhere along the line.

“My name is Haplo,” the Sartan said, once he had finally opened his eyes and regained his power of speech.

Grundle crossed her arms, looking down at the man laying on the ground with more authority than she felt. “What are you doing here?”

“Grundle, don’t be rude,” Alake hissed.

Grundle shrugged. “It’s our ship he’s barged onto. I think we’re owed some answers. Maybe he knows something about the dragon-snakes.” _Or maybe,_ she didn’t say, _the dragon-snakes sent him as a spy._

“Your ship?” The Sartan who called himself Haplo sat up. Grundle eyed him, as well as the small green dragon that curled into his lap. Gold eyes glittered up at the three of them, unnerving her. “Is there no one else on board?”

The question immediately spelled danger to Grundle, but she couldn’t exactly deny it. She turned to meet Devon’s eyes, and then turned to Alake in time to see her reluctantly shaking her head no.

Haplo pursed his lips, eyes drifting between the three of them. “I think,” he began slowly, “you should tell me what’s going on, here. I’d like to know what I’ve stumbled into, here.”

“You answer our questions, first,” Grundle countered. “Where did you come from? You’re a Sartan, right?”

She’d been thinking of him as a Sartan in her head, but truthfully, she wasn’t quite sure. His hair, shoulder-length and finally beginning to dry, was the right colors, but in the wrong order. The language he had spoken at first seemed similar to the snippets of Sartan she’d heard every once in a while from one of their so-called emissaries, but it didn’t sound exactly right. His clothing was wrong, too, closer to something a human might wear than Bridgit’s annoying, impractical, pristinely white dresses. And then there were the strange markings that had appeared on his skin, unlike anything she had ever seen.

Even so, she could count the number of Sartan she’d ever met on one hand, so all of that might be normal for Sartan. She would have no way of knowing. In any case, she already decided she didn’t like or trust him or that strange little dragon of his.

She had more questions for him, but the effect of her words was instantaneous: at the word “Sartan,” Haplo jolted, like a bloodhound who had caught a scent. Grundle blinked, and just like that Haplo had relaxed, though he still had a spark in his eyes that unnerved her as he spoke, ever-so-casually: “What makes you think I’m a Sartan?”

Grundle narrowed her eyes. “Well,” she said slowly, wondering what would be dangerous to say, “you obviously aren’t a dwarf or an elf. You don’t look quite human, either.”

“So I must be a Sartan,” the man finished, wonderingly. He glanced down at the dragon sitting stock-still in his lap. Between the dragon’s wide, golden stare and the gleam in Haplo’s eyes that was quickly turning manic, Grundle was quickly growing nervous. Haplo spoke again, still with that too-casual tone that Grundle didn’t trust: “Does that mean you’ve seen a Sartan, before?”

Alright, so that was a bit strange. Grundle tried to turn to her companions, seeing if they shared her suspicions, but Alake had already stepped forward, cautiously eager to share.

“Yes, we have,” she said, placing a hand at her heart in a gesture of polite greeting. “I am Alake, daughter of Dumaka and Delu, princess of Phondra. As such I am acquainted with each of the Sartan emissaries sent to human, elven, and dwarven lands.”

She smiled sweetly at the end of her speech, turning to introduce her companions, freezing when she saw Grundle’s angry glare, Devon’s discouraging eyes flashing behind Sabia’s headscarf. Not for the first time, Grundle wished Alake had sidewhiskers for her to tug, so she could berate her as if she were a small dwarf child. She would have settled for tugging at one of her braids instead if Haplo’s expression had not left her frozen, for now the man’s eyes were on the verge bulging out of his head. He looked a bit like they’d just dragged him out of the water again.

“Emissaries,” he echoed.

Grundle, not one for speechlessness, met his eyes challengingly. “That’s what they call themselves, anyway.”

Haplo considered her calmly, the spark in his eyes dimmed, if not completely vanished. “You don’t seem to like them very much.”

 _Why should I?_ Grundle almost demanded, but felt Alake’s hand on her arm.

“Grundle,” she said quietly. A warning she had received time and time again from her, Sabia, and her own parents: _hold your tongue._

Grundle huffed. “What does it matter, at this point?” _I’d rather die picking a fight with a Sartan than a snake,_ she didn’t say, but she was sure Alake and Devon got the idea, all the same.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, to all of their surprise. They looked back down at him, and he had closed his eyes, like he was thinking of where to start. “Explain these dragon-snakes to me,” he finally said.

The three of them glanced at each other, until Devon shrugged. Grundle and Alake took turns telling how their ships and the people on them were destroyed by the dragon-snakes. Alake explained about the Sun Chase, how important the ships were to their people and how important it was for them to move from their current seamoon quickly, and Grundle interrupted to recount how the snakes had demanded three royal daughters, else they would return and destroy more. Devon, sensibly, said nothing, keeping his disguise intact.

“We had no choice,” Grundle concluded. “Our so-called protectors couldn’t actually protect us from anything, when it came down to it.” She spoke viciously, the anger that was always so near the surface these days rising up again. “They ran away, like the cowards they are. So we took matters into our own hands.”

Haplo stared at them for a moment. Then, slowly, he stood up, the dragon jumping out of his lap to stand at his feet. “You realize this plan is completely foolish,” he said, blunt as anything. And when the three of them countered with arguments about protecting their people, about it being worth the risk of betrayal if it meant a possibility of saving their people, Haplo proceeded to sweep each of them aside, reminding them of their parents, of their growing despair at the thought of their missing daughters-- “and son,” he finished, eyes resting firmly on Devon, who gulped.

They had lied to the snakes, he pointed out, so who was to say they had not doomed their people already? His jaw tensed as he watched them squirm, unsympathetic to Devon’s paleness, to the tears brimming in Alake’s eyes. To Grundle, who clenched her fist, a new wave of uncertainty washing over her.

“Then what are we to do?” She intended her words to be a challenge. Instead, to her displeasure, she only sounded lost.

“Turning the ship around would be a good start,” Haplo said, a little less abrasive now that he had made his point clear.

Grundle scowled. “We don’t need help from a Sartan,” she spat.

Immediately, Haplo’s hackles were up again. “I am _not_ a Sartan,” he barked, eying Grundle venomously. “The Sartan have been enemies of my people for generations. I think that puts us on the same side.”

“Not so fast,” Grundle interrupted. “That means you’re with the dragon-snakes, then!”

Haplo’s eyes narrowed. “How do you figure that?”

Grundle crossed her arms, leaving Alake to speak up. “That’s why they left, according to them,” she said mildly. “The dragon-snakes are enemies of the Sartan.”

“Well, I’ve never even heard of such a creature before today,” Haplo declared, as if that settled it.

“That doesn’t make sense!”

Haplo merely shrugged at Grundle’s frustration. “I can’t explain any better than that, so you’ll just have to trust me.” At their skeptical silence, he raised his eyebrows, staring at each of them in turn. “You’re already going to your deaths, aren’t you?” Another pause, and Haplo smiled without humor. “Then you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Grundle grit her teeth. She didn’t want to listen to this stranger, didn’t want to relinquish the last bit of control they’d had over their situation. Alake’s hand was on her arm again, softer this time. “Maybe he can help us, Grundle,” she said, her words as gentle as her touch.

So Grundle sighed, allowing Haplo to be led to the ship’s steering, where the mysterious force emanated, drawing them closer to their unknown destination.

* * *

Haplo’s head was reeling.

Lord Xar had believed there could be more Sartan out there, especially after Haplo had told him about Alfred’s existence. Despite that, Haplo had started to believe that the man had been right: Alfred was the last Sartan left in any of the worlds, with the questionable exception of that Zifnab. Otherwise, Haplo had argued with himself, where were the rest of them? The answer, apparently, was Chelestra, ruling over the mensch in the world of water.

It was more than he’d bargained for. Still, things could be worse. He had managed to end up in a place without any Sartan who might discover him. With only these mensch children aboard, it was easy to assume command of this vessel. On the other hand, there were these dragon-snakes to contend with, who were apparently enough of a threat to concern the Sartan, although an enemy of the Sartan could actually prove advantageous, for him.

So Haplo walked into the steerage, resisting the aura of fear that seemed to radiate outwards from the creature at the steering mechanism.

The room was dark, daunting, and the baser part of Haplo demanded he listen to the warnings of his tattoos and the prickling sensation across his skin and turn back immediately. He managed to resist the urge, staring into the black room and seeing absolutely nothing. Nothing, that is, until a pair of flickering, red-green lights appeared through the consuming darkness, sending his blood running cold. Haplo blinked, stepping closer, and the red light emanating from his own skin began to reflect against the black, revealing slime-coated scales. Around the flickering lights, a mass of darkness seemed to transform into a snake’s head. Haplo fought for breath as the snake spoke, its rasping voice making him flinch instinctively.

Behind him, the dragon didn’t seem to be doing as well, he noted with irritation, for he had wound himself tightly around his arms, claws digging into his back, stinging a bit. He hadn’t been speaking much since the ship had disintegrated into the water, which Haplo considered a good thing, especially at the moment.

And then the snake gave Haplo one word, just one word that would change everything.

“Samah.”

The dragon clenched, claws stabbing into his arms and back. His already-flaring runes acted instinctively to protect Haplo’s skin, but he could not help letting out a startled yelp, throwing a series of irritated thoughts in the dragon’s direction. In reply, he received nothing but a tidal wave of _fearfearfear_ and a flashing image of a man’s face before the dragon clamped down on it.

The dragon-snake chuckled.

As soon as he had reached the mensch children again, Haplo shoved the dragon off of him. It was clear what they would do next: the snakes had indeed managed to pique his interest, and so follow them Haplo would. He explained the situation to the children. Alake looked up to him with awe, Devon with respect. Grundle, of course, still with suspicion, but she could make no argument against him, now.

* * *

Haplo wanted to use the travel time to ask more questions of these mensch children, but Grundle beat him to the punch. 

“So, what’s with the dragon?”

Haplo looked down at the creature, who had been sitting perfectly still between Haplo and the wall of the ship, not so much as blinking. A tentative search of the bond found that he was still holding back with an iron grip, and Haplo wasn’t sure if the vague anxiety he perceived was coming through the bond or just his knowledge of the dragon.

“He’s a dragon,” he said.

Grundle rolled her eyes. “I can see that.”

While the dwarf had been looking at the dragon with discomfort, Alake and Devon had been watching it with curiosity. Now that the subject had been brought up, Devon asked: “Is it common to have dragons for pets where you’re from?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call him a pet,” Haplo grumbled. Life had been much easier back when he had been able to think of the dragon as a pet and nothing more.

“Oh, is it more of a familiar, then?” Alake piped up, toying with the jewelry on her wrists shyly when Haplo glanced her way. “I’ve heard of some magic-users that keep powerful creatures with them as helpers and companions.”

“I guess you could say that,” Haplo allowed.

At this Alake smiled, still averting her eyes. “When you were unconscious, it was your dragon that brought you to us. He seemed very worried about you.”

Without thinking, Haplo reached out beside him to touch the end of the dragon’s tail. The dragon didn’t say anything; Haplo doubted he was paying attention to their conversation at all, too lost in whatever was going on in his head.

A twinge of guilt pressed at Haplo. He had just yelled at the dragon for not protecting him, and here was the dragon, still doing exactly that.

And now, for all Haplo could tell, he was terrified. At the mention of Samah? Why would that be? Of course, every Patryn knew the name of the Sartan who had sentenced them to the Labyrinth, and Haplo supposed the same was true of this dragon, but even so, the reaction seemed extreme.

“He does that,” Haplo said at last. “Setting the dragon aside for the moment, I’m very interested in hearing what you all know about the Sartan. Are there many of them?”

“If you’re their enemy, shouldn’t you know that?” Grundle huffed.

“It’s been a while,” he said shortly.

Grundle’s eyes never strayed from his, plain as ever in her suspicions. It was up to Alake, once again, to defuse the tension between the two of them. “They must have at least one fairly large city,” she offered.

Haplo turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“They live on a seamoon far away from us.” She hesitated. “Well, the dolphins say it isn’t exactly a seamoon, but--”

“Well, what is it, then?” Grundle interrupted, and from her tone Haplo guessed this was a long-standing point of contention between them.

“The Chalice,” Devon said, flushing when the other three stared at him, clearly surprised. “Sabia said that Sartan told her about it, sometimes,” he said, tapping his fingers against his knees. “It never really made sense to me, but that’s what she called it.”

Grundle waved a hand. “The point is, we’ve never been there, so we don’t know what it’s like or how many Sartan there are. They just showed up about ten years ago and announced that they were meant to rule over us or some such nonsense.”

The dwarf frowned, hardly noticing how Haplo instantly snapped up at her words.

“Wait. You’re saying they only arrived ten years ago?” He stared down each of the children in turn. “Where were they before then?”

A heavy silence told Haplo that they had no idea. “Wherever you were?” Alake guessed, tentative.

So the Sartan had been absent-- at least to these mensch’s knowledge-- until very recently. Haplo puzzled over that, but without more information, he could only guess at what the Sartan had been up to. “So they announced that they were going to send representatives to keep track of the mensch kingdoms.”

“Don’t call us that,” Grundle snapped.

“What? Oh.” Haplo looked at the dwarf maiden, whose face was clouded with resentment. He wondered what she had seen that made her react in such a way, but then, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. No doubt the Sartan’s condescension didn’t mix well with dwarven pride.

“They took over like it was nothing,” Alake said, clasping her hands together. “We tried to fight back, but they’re so much more powerful than even our most skilled wizards.”

“‘Fight’ isn’t the right word for what it was.” Devon’s voice was hollow, his eyes lowered.

Alake shook her head slowly. “My mother said it was as if we were children, compared to them.”

“That’s exactly what they think of us,” Grundle grumbled.

Alake’s eyes were sad, and she bowed her head in agreement. “And then, yes, they sent a Sartan to each of our kingdoms, to… watch over us. That’s all they ever do, really, is watch.”

Grundle shook her head. “You and Sabia are too naive,” she accused, and this, too, seemed to be a long-standing debate. “They invade our lands, insert themselves where they aren’t wanted. They’re nothing but pretentious, patronizing conquerors. Bullies. They’re here to breathe down our necks and make sure we don’t step out of line again, and once they have us all moved to their Chalice, it will be even easier for them.”

She crossed her arms, waiting for Alake or Devon to disagree. Neither did.

“That’s where your people were moving? To the Chalice?”

Alake grimaced. “We sent the dolphins to look for other seamoons-- secretly, of course-- but they didn’t find anything else suitable for us.”

“I’m sure the Sartan knew about that,” Grundle said, slouching more heavily against the wall where she sat. “They knew we wouldn’t find anything.”

Alake pursed her lips, then shrugged, conceding the possibility.

“Must have been pretty convenient for the Sartan,” Haplo mused. “Moving you to all to one location _would_ make things much easier to control.”

“That’s what I said,” Grundle pointed out, but she frowned, shrugging unhappily. “I guess that’s not happening anymore, now, though,” she said, troubled. “Now that the sun-chasers have been destroyed.”

“I thought you said the Sartan went to get help,” Devon said, looking hopefully between Grundle and Alake.

“That’s what they said,” Alake agreed cautiously.

Grundle merely snorted. “They left us for dead,” she said, leaving no room for debate. “They aren’t coming back.”

There wasn’t much any of them could add to that.

* * *

Even compared to the Labyrinth, Draknor was an unpleasant place to be. Though he was clad in a new set of clothes, provided by the writhing nest of snakes calling him their master, Haplo was not quite appeased. The runes, having been washed away once again, were reappearing only slowly, providing at least a dim lighting, but he was still cold, on edge, inhaling the putrid stench permeating the place.

It didn’t help that the dragon was still clinging to him, tail wrapped so tightly around Haplo’s arm that it was beginning to go numb. He had been like that from the moment Haplo set foot on the black, grainy sand of Draknor. It was bothersome enough that Haplo actually told him to stay behind, ostensibly to watch over Grundle, Alake, and Devon, while Haplo spoke with the snakes. The dragon had refused, clinging tighter and meeting Haplo’s eye with a look that was as resolute as it was terrified.

So they had wandered into the heart of Draknor, and the snakes had fallen over themselves to declare Haplo their master and explain the circumstances Chelestra had fallen into since the Sundering.

Their version of events lined up well with what he had already gleaned form the children: the Sartan were indeed alive and well in the world of water. For years, the frontmost dragon-snake said, they took joy in exerting their power over snakes. The snakes had tried to fight back, tried to free the mensch from the Sartan’s rule as well, but the Sartan were much too powerful. Still, they fought, until the Sartan managed to freeze them in their own seamoon, where they had remained for thousands of years. It was only recently that they had thawed at last.

Remembering the Sartan as the brutes they were, the snakes decided to reach out to the mensch once again, only to find that the mensch had allied themselves with the enemy. And so the snakes had attacked.

“Surely you knew the mensch aren’t allied with the Sartan,” Haplo said, skeptic.

The slimy black serpent dropped its head in sorrowful admission. “This we realized only after the damage had already been done. Our informants told us how the Sartan shamefully left the mensch to deal with the perceived threat on their own. We were foolish, and far too impulsive.” The snake looked up, and Haplo restrained himself from flinching at the gleam in its red eyes. “But we intend to make amends. We can make the necessary repairs to the ships, ensure that the mensch leave their seamoons safely. We can even help them stand against the Sartan, as we did thousands of years ago. We would be only too happy to do so, Master.”

The creature did indeed seem eager, black coils twisting and and slithering more rapidly, eyes glowing even brighter under Haplo’s consideration.

“I thought the Sartan were too strong for you to fight them directly,” Haplo replied, his tone carefully neutral.

At this, the snake’s mouth grew into a toothless, acid-dripping smile. “That was indeed the case when we fought our battles with them many thousands of years ago,” the creature allowed, its voice coming quicker in its excitement. “But we have learned that since then, the Sartan have grown… weak.”

Haplo narrowed his eyes, thinking of Abarrach and the people who had lived there, mere ghosts of what a Sartan had once been capable of. “How so?”

The gaping mouth of the dragon-snake widened. “Let me explain. I think you will be most pleased, Master.” The creature paused, eyes closed, and Haplo couldn’t tell if it was struggling to find the words or simply relishing in the suspense. Eyes opened.

“First, you must understand, we were not the only ones frozen here, thousands of years ago. The Sartan were so occupied fighting us, they did not leave when the seasun began to drift away. By the time they realized that they, too, would be frozen, it was too late to prevent it. They managed to find a way to preserve themselves, but they, too, were only thawed out very recently.”

Haplo blinked, an important piece suddenly slotting into place. “Ten years ago.”

“Almost exactly,” the dragon-snake agreed.

The implications of that simple fact sent Haplo’s mind spinning, racing in several directions at once until it suddenly snagged on one thought that made his heart stop. “So what you’re telling me…” he began slowly, sure that at any moment he would hit on a reason why what he was about to say could not possibly be true. He did not, and his fists clenched. “Is that the Sartan that woke up just ten years ago… are the same Sartan that lived during the Sundering.”

The snake bowed its head. “That is correct, Master.”

Haplo’s eyes widened, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of the tail wrapped around his arm clenching tighter still, but the bulk of his attention was fixed firmly on the snake, who continued: “Then you know who is among them.”

“Samah,” Haplo breathed. The snake made a noise like a soft laugh as Haplo stood, incredulous. Not just any Sartan, but the very Sartan who had Sundered the world, forcing generations of Patryns into the hell of the Labyrinth. And Samah, the leader of them all, still somehow alive, within reach.

It wasn’t an opportunity Haplo or his Lord would squander.

“You said the Sartan have been weakened,” Haplo said, suddenly much more urgent.

“Fewer woke up than went to sleep,” the serpent said easily, as if it was oblivious to the change in Haplo’s posture, the new fire in his blood. “They have spent the past decade realizing their true powerlessness. Tension is rising among them, factions forming. This is advantageous to us.”

“And you think you could defeat them, in this state?”

“With a noble Patryn leading our way?” The dragon-snake tilted its head, making a rasping noise that might have been their version of laughter. “Certainly.”

It didn’t take long to sort out their plan: Haplo would return the children to their parents, becoming a hero to the mensch. Then the snakes would rebuild the boats they had destroyed and guide the mensch across the Goodsea, just as planned, except thanks to Haplo and the serpents, their resettlement would not be nearly as peaceful as Samah had anticipated.

Simple enough, though there were plenty of potential pitfalls that Haplo would have to take care to avoid. One could never be too careful, especially where Sartan were concerned. Especially when one of those Sartan was Samah. Just the thought sent a thrill through Haplo’s spine, of eagerness and fear in equal parts. If he could manage this-- and he was certain he could-- everything would change. The Patryns would reclaim the power they had once lost by taking it back from Samah himself. It was everything Xar had asked of him and more, and Haplo would be redeemed, entirely.

Haplo was ready to send everything into motion, but when he attempted to excuse himself, the dragon-snake stopped him. “There is one more thing you ought to know, Master.”

Haplo raised his eyebrows. “What would that be?”

“The Sartan did not actually awaken as soon as their land thawed, as it turns out.” The serpent’s mouth split open in another grotesque smile, eyes gleaming brighter. “Ten years ago, we have since discovered, a stranger arrived in Chelestra from another world, through Death’s Gate. A Sartan, a Serpent Mage bearing a mensch name. He was the one who freed his fellows from their endless sleep.”

The dragon-snake froze, watching him closely, clearly expecting Haplo to react to this pronouncement. Haplo only frowned. “A Serpent Mage…” he repeated. He’d never heard of such a thing, before, he was sure of it. He racked his brain for a minute, until the rest of the snake’s statement came to him: _Another world. A Sartan with a mensch’s name._

“Alfred.”

Claws dug sharply into his arm, but Haplo hardly noticed them, for the air seemed to have frozen in his lungs along with the rest of him.

“You know him?” The snake’s eyes widened slightly.

“You could say that,” Haplo said, still taken aback, himself.

The serpent nodded its head vigorously. “A bumbling fool of a Sartan, and every bit as cowardly as his peers. He wasted no time submitting himself to Samah, who sent him through Death’s Gate for his own purposes. We suspected you might have heard of him in your extensive travels.”

The snake waited for an answer, but Haplo’s jaw was clenched tight, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. “I have,” he forced himself to say. _This explains everything,_ he thought numbly. Didn’t it? He forced himself to remember the story Alfred had told him: that he was the last Sartan of Arianus, that he was searching for what remained of the Sartan. But the whole time, there had always been an air about him, a sense that this was not the full truth.

And now, here it was: the whole time, he had been working for Samah. Scouting for him, probably. The most hated Sartan of all. And all the while, he had saved Haplo’s life, looked at him with nothing but wide eyes and sincerity and claimed that they didn’t have to be enemies, and Haplo hadn’t believed it but he’d been weak enough to let him stay. And then, later, weak enough to let him go.

“That bastard,” he spat. The suffocating cold had melted away, a welcome flame of rage rekindling inside him to take its place. “All that time he was with me, and I knew he was hiding something--”

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Master,” the writhing serpent said, its voice soothing, sympathetic. “He is a liar at his core. A liar and a traitor… weak and pathetic.” Black coils spilled over each other, movements becoming faster, more erratic. “And now, he has returned to Chelestra.”

Haplo’s eyes refocused instantly. “He’s here?” he snapped. “Now? How do you know?”

“He tried to disguise himself,” the serpent whispered, voice trembling with excitement. “Tried to hide himself from our senses. But we recognized him immediately.”

Haplo’s eyes drilled into the serpent’s. “Where is he?”

The snake didn’t answer him immediately, but stared him down, mouth widening into that acidic, toothless smile. Haplo refused to look away, refused even to move, even as the temperature around him dropped significantly, even as the dragon shook violently against him, constricting his arm painfully. The snakes that Haplo could see writhed together sickeningly, eyes burning vibrant red, and in the darkness of the cave behind them, still more glints of red emerged, more than a dozen sets of them, apparently delighting in the tense silence.

At last, just when Haplo would have demanded an answer, it spoke. “It is difficult for us to say, exactly,” it said simply, and for a moment, Haplo thought he detected a hint of amusement in its otherwise serious tone, though what the creature had to be amused over, he wasn’t certain. “Be wary of him, Master,” it continued, nodding its head solemnly. “He is a most disgusting, duplicitous creature, and he may seek you out, as he has in the past.”

“I hope he does,” Haplo retorted. “I’ll kill him before I let him get away again”

“A wise course of action,” the snake agreed, eyes glinting in the darkness. “For now, you should return these mensch to their families. We will hasten your travel as much as we can.”

“Your assistance is much appreciated,” Haplo replied, eager to leave the presence of the dragon-snakes. Though they seemed to share a common enemy, there was without question something unsavory about the creatures, especially how easily they submitted to him. He would keep an eye on them. A closer one than he had kept on Alfred, he thought bitterly.

The snake bowed, and then, as Haplo turned to leave, added: “Before you go… we notice you have brought another creature with you.” The dragon clinging to his back stiffened, but Haplo could still feel his shaking. “We apologize for frightening it so,” the snake continued, eyes fixed on the little green creature.

Haplo frowned. “No need to concern yourself,” he said, dismissive. He looked down at the dragon, stroking a hand across ice cold scales. “For a dragon, it really doesn’t take much to manage that.".

“No,” the snake agreed, gaping smile stretched to the brink, dripping with acid. “No, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cautiously adds "Minor Original Characters" to the taglist*


	9. Suspension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haplo and the dragon continue their mission in Chelestra, the words of the dragon-snakes ringing in their ears. A surprise encounter paves the way forward.

_ Surunan, nine years previous: _

Ramu had long stopped paying attention to the current speaker. His eyes had drifted down to the notes before him, more concerned with the next item on the agenda.

He had only been an official member of the Council for about a month, but it felt much longer; Surunan hadn’t settled much in the year since the Sartan’s awakening. The populace remained eager to see visible progress, which left the Council with all manner of well-meaning proposals to sift through.

This speaker, who had finished her presentation and was now answering questions from the Council, was a perfect example. She represented a group of Sartan which had spent much of the past year developing new forms of magical communication. The project she proposed would take these findings and turn them towards creating methods by which the Sartan could investigate other worlds through Death’s Gate without sending any Sartan through, themselves. Unsurprisingly, more than a few of the Council members seemed deeply interested the idea. 

The matter of Death’s Gate was touchy, at the moment. Communication between the worlds should have been possible, according to their designs. However, since waking up, there had been no word from Sartan in any of the other worlds-- at least, not through the designated channels. Rumors circled, uncertain whispers that the Sundering had been a failure, that Arianus truly had fallen, and the other worlds after it.

Samah did his best to counter such rumors, maintaining that despite a few unforeseen circumstances and an unfortunate lack of communication between worlds, the Sundering had ultimately been a success. But even Samah could no longer claim complete certainty; he was the first to discourage the Council against opening Death’s Gate prematurely, much less sending any Sartan through it. The risk was simply too great.

Of course, Ramu was in agreement in this, as were most of the others. It made sense to focus their efforts on rebuilding their nation in Chelestra, first. But they all knew that this was not how things should have been, in a world of their own making. Gods they might have been, but there were still a few forces outside their control, and the past year had made them all too conscious of this fact, especially after the recent loss of one of their most respected Councillors.

The thought was an uncomfortable twinge in Ramu’s stomach, but he ignored it, listening to the Council speak back and forth. The speaker, too, was watching intently, sitting in her chair, ordinary but for the way it hovered a few inches off the floor; she guided it back and forth in front of the Council table, clearly answering the questions directed to her as the Councillors deliberated. Ramu himself said nothing, waiting for his father to add his remarks first. As expected, Samah made clear that the Council would eagerly welcome new insights into the current state of the other worlds, but suggested they wait for such projects to be developed more fully before considering any use that would require the opening of Death’s Gate.

One by one, the Council agreed to this assessment. The woman’s lips pressed together, but she nodded curtly before escorting herself out of the Council’s chambers. Ramu glanced over the faces of the five other Council members, noting how some looked less satisfied with the decision than others.

It was only natural for the Sartan to wish to regain some semblance of the power they had once held. Ramu felt it, too: the frustration of being isolated on their small island in the world, the urge to reach out again.

Which brought the Council to its next topic. Ramu’s eyes refocused as he looked up from his notes to another Sartan, one of the servitors, who had stepped forward at Samah’s gesture.

The servitor stood tall, delivering his opening remarks with precision. When that was done, he got to the heart of the matter: “A message has been sent out requesting volunteers to serve as our representatives among the mensch of Chelestra.”

Samah nodded. “Very good. And how many have volunteered?”

At this, the servitor’s hands wrung together just a bit tighter, and there was a slight pause before the Sartan answered. “There were... two, Councillor.”

Among the rest of the Council table, frowns deepened, the silence heavier than it had been before.  _ Only two.  _ Ramu, who had known of this already, did not have a reaction.

Samah nodded seriously. “Understandable,” he said simply. “It is a great deal to ask any Sartan to leave his or her community for an extended period of time, especially under current circumstances.”

At this, the servitor nodded, unable to disguise the slightest relief. Samah looked around the table at each Councillor in turn, and his nonchalance had a somewhat contagious effect. By the time he looked back at the servitor, most of tension of the room had eased, at least for the moment.

“Who are the two?”

Quickly, the servitor gave the names, their true names painting faces into the minds of the Council. The first Ramu had recognized instantly: a loyal and hardworking Sartan woman who he was already somewhat acquainted with. Ambitious, and would likely find herself a servitor the next time a position opened up. Admirable family, too: she and her husband were the parents of young twins, the first Sartan children to be born in Surunan. The Council had no trouble approving her for the task.

The other candidate had taken Ramu a while longer to register, the first time he’d heard it. A younger Sartan, barely an adult, and her wide, round face only made her look even younger. The Council members glanced around, some offering a few words about the woman, but it quickly became obvious that none of them had enough knowledge about her to make a judgement call either way. Eventually, they gave up and looked to the servitor for an opinion.

“She seems eager and interested in the task, which is more than I can say about anyone else I spoke with,” he said, then quickly bit his lip, conscious of how his words could be construed as disrespectful.

Again, Samah intervened before too much discomfort could arise. “It is only natural that there would be hesitance after our first attempt went so poorly. I don’t blame anyone for that.” He spoke calmly, but as he continued, his tone grew slightly more deliberate. “However, I think we would all benefit from this Sartan’s spirit of perseverance, as well.”

It was a message to the Council, more than anything, and with that, volunteer number two was approved.

“If we still intend to send a Sartan to each of the mensch’s lands, we need at least one more,” said the Councillor beside Ramu, crossing her arms with a frown.

“I’ve been thinking about that very thing,” Ramu said quickly, turning to his father. “I believe I have a candidate in mind. She’s here to speak with the Council now, if that is acceptable.”

Samah waited for each of the Sartan on the Council to nod their agreement before waving for Ramu to continue. Ramu nodded to his waiting servitor, who left the meeting room and returned quickly with another Sartan at his side.

A hush fell over the Council when she entered their view, nervously stepping forward, her hands clasped tightly before her and her eyes lowered. The woman was quite tall, much like her grandfather, but it wasn’t Samah who the Council thought of when she lifted her green eyes to them, face framed by soft curtains of white hair.

She wasn’t much like Orla beyond her appearance, of course. Ramu’s niece was timid, answering to the Council in soft tones, glancing up at Ramu and Samah every so often. Ramu wasn’t unduly worried about that; even she could more than handle the mensch. He’d send her to watch over the elves, who by all accounts didn’t do much, anyway. 

Whispers of Samah’s nepotism would drift among a few of the Sartan, of course, as they had following Ramu’s recent promotion, but it would pass. The important thing was to eliminate the risk of another embarrassment as far as the mensch were concerned. The Sartan would regain some measure of control in Chelestra, and before long, all memories of the two Sartan missing from their ranks would fade away for good.

* * *

It took less than a day of travel for the mensch children to make the adjustment from being shocked and awed by their survival of the snakes to just being impatient to return home. Alake had managed to make contact with some dolphins, instructing them to inform their families of their survival. After that, there wasn’t much for them to do but wish for the ship to go just a little bit faster.

Haplo, by contrast, found himself grateful to have a few days of preparation and contemplation before they reached civilization. When he wasn’t dealing with the children, he found himself shut up in what they had presented as his room, sitting on his cot. 

Usually, the dragon would follow him to his room, sitting on the floor or the edge of the bed. He would close his golden eyes, and to an outside observer, he might have appeared to be sleeping. Only Haplo could sense that during these periods, he was thinking as deeply as Haplo, though about what, exactly, he couldn’t have said.

Haplo’s thoughts were mostly concerned with the Sartan. A whole civilization of Sartan, and not those half-dead necromancers from Abarrach, either. Their mere presence was the single most important piece of information Haplo had discovered on any of his missions to the Sundered worlds, and also one of the largest threats-- and not just to Haplo, but to every Patryn.

And Samah was living among them. Samah, the very Sartan responsible for sending the first of the Patryns to the Labyrinth. He would be brought down by Haplo, one of the first Patryns to escape it. It was a fitting idea, an image that felt like a vision, sending Haplo’s blood racing with excitement.

It was an excitement the dragon obviously did not share. Though Draknor was far behind them by now, and the serpents with it, he was still acting strangely. He was constantly distracted, and agitated when disturbed, just as he had been in Arianus, during those few weeks in Drevlin.

Only this time, Haplo had a sense of what was going on inside the dragon’s head. The dragon didn’t consciously share anything with Haplo, but he didn’t have to: what was going on was utter, unintelligible turmoil and anxiety, loud enough for Haplo to sense without any effort on the dragon’s part.

It would be foolish to wonder why the dragon would fear Samah. Even after all these years, he was still infamous among the Patryns as the most powerful Sartan of all, cruel enough to create the Labyrinth and all its evils. He was the one directly responsible for every second of suffering in either of their lifetimes, as far as Haplo could tell. 

Even so, the dragon’s panic gave Haplo pause. Something in Haplo’s gut told him that the dragon’s anxiety stemmed from something much deeper. More personal, which didn’t make sense, but that brief glimpse of a face that the dragon had projected in the brief seconds before shutting down entirely would not leave him, nor would the overwhelming feelings of terror that had accompanied the vision. What it meant, Haplo was uncertain, but the thought filled him with even more vicious feelings towards Samah. The anger built hot in his chest until it ached, and he was glad for the sensation.

He recalled, suddenly, devastated, hysterical words pounding into his mind:  _ He hurt you.  _ The dragon’s anger, forcing its way into his mind, surprising him with its ferocity. The ache in Haplo’s chest intensified with the memory.

Yes, he would give Samah hell. Haplo pictured a fight between them, a fight in which he was victorious, a fight in which he brought Samah to his knees, inspired fear in his eyes.

_ Don’t.  _ A desperate voice filled his mind.  _ Do not fight him. _

It was the first thing the dragon had said to Haplo since leaving Draknor. It was firm, urgent, and Haplo didn’t need to feel the accompanying waves of the dragon’s emotions to know that the warning-- the plea, even-- was born of deep fear.

It did nothing to incline Haplo away from his anger. It did even less to dissuade him from the idea of punishing Samah in any way he could. Haplo was surprised, then, to find his thoughts coming steadier as he met the dragon’s wide, agitated eyes.

_ We could do it, if it were both of us. _

The dragon blinked, the haze clearing for a moment in his surprise. Haplo took a breath; the thought had been more instinctive than anything rational. Still, he found he stood by it, even going a step farther:  _ I bet you could do it on your own, even. _

At this declaration, the dragon started, suddenly much more alert, much more present.  _ Against magic like his?  _ Golden eyes stared him down, despite that the dragon was sitting below him, curled on the floor. Haplo remembered how easily his own sleep spell had worked on the dragon just a few days ago. Haplo could see fear and resignation beginning to creep back into the dragon’s demeanor.  _ No,  _ the creature said, shaking his head slightly.

He crossed his arms.  _ Well, then that’s what I’m here for, remember? _

Once again, the dragon’s surprise reached Haplo through their link, followed by a quieter, warmer feeling. Haplo closed his eyes, letting it settle in his chest. 

Perhaps he should have been discouraged, but Haplo found that the dragon’s words had only made him more determined. He would have to be careful; the last thing he needed was to become reckless on a world crawling with Sartan. 

For now, though, he leaned backwards until he was reclined comfortably on the cot, suddenly more tired than he had been moments ago. The dragon said nothing more, but some of the worry flowing from him had eased, and a few moments later Haplo felt an extra weight beside him on the cot, followed by warm scales brushing against his left arm. 

The uneasy feeling that had been between them since arriving in Chelestra seemed to have been mended. Haplo was glad for that, at least. He had decided he didn’t much care for arguing with the dragon.

Of course, Haplo had made no outright apologies, but then he doubted the dragon would have expected him to. He certainly didn’t expect any from the dragon. His only crime was his overprotective nature, really, and Haplo had learned his lesson about taking the dragon’s protection for granted.

In any case, the dragon seemed calmer than he had before, and Haplo hoped that the morale boost would last. He was surprised to note how defensive he felt over the dragon, but he supposed it made sense. He’d been angry about the dragon trying to protect him all the time, after all. It was better to be on the other side of things, he decided.

For a moment, he felt something at his right hand, wet and warm and rough. A familiar feeling, but when he opened his eyes, there was nothing there. Just the dragon at his side, his large eyes also fixed on Haplo’s hand where it lay dangling over the side of the bed. Haplo blinked, then shook his head, suddenly-- inexplicably-- disturbed.

_ Be wary of these dragon-snakes,  _ the dragon was saying softly, eyes turning back to Haplo’s.  _ Don’t trust them. _

Haplo studied the blue-flecked gold of the dragon’s eyes for a moment before nodding, turning his head up towards the ceiling and closing his eyes.  _ Of course I don’t trust them. _

But he was going to have to play along with them for a while, it seemed. The dragon seemed uneasy with that, but accepted it, closing his eyes.

The dragon-snakes represented a large question mark in his developing plans. It was difficult to make the decisions he needed to make without an accurate gauge of how powerful the creatures were or, more importantly, their overall loyalties. He certainly wasn’t going to trust them just because of a few nice words. He’d like to believe he was cleverer than that. Especially after Abarrach. 

Just the thought made Haplo’s jaw clench, the pleasant warmth in his chest vanishing, replaced with a much more familiar, angry heat.

At his side, the dragon stirred, clearly concerned with the sudden emotion pouring from Haplo’s mind. With great effort, he managed to stifle the burst of raging flames, for the time being, at least. The dragon settled again, leaving Haplo with the satisfaction of knowing that with any luck, he would have his chance to deal with  _ him _ \-- along with Samah-- soon enough.

* * *

_ What a shame. _

Haplo looked up from the pile of brown and white strands and ran a hand over the top of his head, feeling the prickling texture of newly-cut hair. “It’ll grow back,” he said, the pile of hair vanishing with a word and a gesture. “I should have thought of it sooner.”

He had cut his hair as part of his disguise on Arianus, but he had deemed it an unnecessarily disguise when he’d traveled to Pryan and Abarrach. Now that he knew there were Sartan here, though-- Sartan who remembered the Patryns-- it was vital that he take every precaution.

He turned to the three mensch children, who had been watching him with some interest. They had remained nearby for most of the day, growing steadily more excited with the knowledge that they were close to their homeland. Alake had apparently managed to speak with a dolphin again, who had rushed ahead to announce the prince and princesses’ return to their parents.

“I need you three to promise me something,” Haplo announced, looking at each of the the mensch in turn.

“Of course,” Alake said immediately.

“Don’t say that before he’s even said what it is,” Grundle grumbled, but she looked at Haplo expectantly, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“It’s extremely important that the Sartan don’t realize who I am,” Haplo explained, carefully adjusting the bandages he’d once again wrapped around his arms. “When we land, I’m a human from another seamoon, and I’ve never so much as heard of the Sartan before.”

Devon frowned. “But the Sartan won’t be there. They left, remember? Why do you have to hide from our people?”

“The fewer people who know about me, the better. If the Sartan were to find out about me, somehow, you can bet it wouldn’t be good for any of your kingdoms.” He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

The kids looked between each other. As he might have expected, Alake spoke first. “We won’t tell anyone,” she promised. Devon nodded, his eyes flickering in Grundle’s direction.

The dwarf pursed her lips, wearing a look of displeasure she adopted quite often where Haplo was involved. “I’m not going to promise anything,” she eventually declared. Then, reluctantly: “But I guess what you’re saying makes sense.”

Knowing Grundle, Haplo took that as agreement. Satisfied, he made his way to the steerage to keep track of their progress.

_ Of course, there’s a very good chance Alfred’s already told them all about me, in which case it will be even more difficult to stay hidden.  _ The thought, unbidden, left him angry and with a bitter taste in his mouth, as thoughts of Alfred-- or whatever his real name was-- were prone to do in recent days. 

Samah, a city of Sartan with command over the mensch, the dragon-snakes and their tenuous motivations: despite having all of these things to concern himself with, Haplo couldn’t keep himself from circling back to the Sartan he’d met on Abarrach.

It shouldn’t have been difficult to reconcile that Alfred with the Sartan who was working for Samah. Haplo had suspected something like that all along, hadn’t he? Alfred had only saved his life because he had needed Haplo’s ship to leave Abarrach. Every moment after that had been a ploy to manipulate Haplo into letting Alfred go, in the end.

And it had worked. Never mind that he’d told himself time and time again that he didn’t trust Alfred, that he was certainly hiding something, that his claim that they could be allies was ridiculous. He’d maintained the possibility of Alfred being a particularly skilled liar, but somehow, apparently, he had allowed himself to forget all of that, to be taken in by the stumbling veneer, just as Alfred had surely intended all along.

The idea was infuriating. It was the reason every reminder of Alfred overwhelmed him with bouts of blinding rage that rivalled even the disgust he felt towards Samah. Haplo should have left it at that.

But somehow, no matter how brightly his anger burned, it would always bleed away, in the end, and he would get stuck trying to fit the pieces together all over again. As if there were any other way to make sense of them.

So it would continue, until Haplo reminded himself that it hardly mattered, now. The important thing was that Alfred had almost certainly alerted Samah and the rest of the Sartan to his presence. With any luck, though, the Sartan hadn’t bothered to warn the mensch about him. Even if they had, if these children were any indication, the mensch might well be pleased to see an enemy of the Sartan around.

So he was confident in his plan, even if that confidence didn’t entirely distract him from his troubled thoughts. 

The dragon must have had some idea of everything he suppressed-- like the dragon’s anxiety, the anger boiling beneath the surface was too intense to keep to himself entirely-- but he never broached the issue, for which Haplo was grateful.

The dragon grew more relaxed once he and Haplo had spoken. As the days passed, he took to busying himself with the mensch. He actually seemed to enjoy it, which Haplo didn’t entirely understand; the dragon had never much cared for attention. It kept the children occupied, though, so Haplo decided not to question it.

The dragon’s newfound sociability had an added benefit; as the mensch children became used to him, and Haplo by extension, they began speaking more freely, giving Haplo insights into their homeland. The dragon seemed just as interested in this information as Haplo was. A few times, he had gone so far as to prompt Haplo to ask a few more questions about the Sartan’s presence in their lives, an occurrence which seemed significant to Haplo, as it was rare for the dragon to intervene so directly.

Unfortunately, just as they’d indicated previously, the mensch didn’t seem to know much about the Sartan as a whole. Their experiences were limited to the three Sartan designated to watch over them, and each of the children had had different experiences with them. Grundle was the bitterest. Apparently her Sartan had been particularly patronizing and controlling, even for a Sartan sent to effectively take over a mensch kingdom. The other two, Haplo gathered, were more inclined towards idle observation than taking any direct control: one traveling the human kingdom, treating the mensch like a fascinating research project, one floating around in the background of the elves’ palace. Still, their influence had left its own marks on the human and elven kingdoms. However docile these Sartan tried to appear, they were still a usurping force, and their mere presence set the mensch leaders to distrust each other.

Before the Sartan’s arrival, the mensch had fostered peace among their races. With much difficulty, they had managed to maintain this peace: not because of the Sartan’s so-called guidance, but in spite of it. Haplo doubted the Sartan would have recognized the difference.

_ That was probably an ego boost for the Sartan,  _ he thought, listening as the children’s conversation turned to what their reception would be like when they landed. _ Finally managing to get at least one thing going right for them. _

The dragon considered this carefully and said nothing, though Haplo sensed silent agreement.

* * *

Nothing was going right for her.

She had been warned from the start that this position would not always be as simple as roaming the mensch kingdoms as she pleased, but she hadn’t exactly expected a group of royal children to hijack a ship and run off to be little mensch sacrifices for the dragon-snakes. And of course, the mensch were acting like it was her fault, like she had  _ let _ this happen, like she had  _ made _ that elven princess leap from a balcony…

She cringed, her frustration momentarily interrupted by a sting of regret. Such a senseless tragedy, even after all that had happened-- the serpents’ attack, the loss of the royal children. In the midst of so much chaos, Princess Sabia’s unexpected death had shaken the mensch to their very cores. 

And for once, she did not have to observe the way the mensch’s hearts were shrouded with fear and uncertainty: this time, Frida felt it herself. 

When the dolphins announced that the missing prince and princesses had been rescued, the mensch hadn’t been alone in their brief moment of relief. It was a miracle, they all said. She smiled with them, trying and failing to ignore the remaining threat of the dragon-snakes or the newer worry that the mensch might just be onto something, there.

She pursed her lips. The dolphins said their ship would be arriving any moment now, but then they did tend to be over eager about these things. She had time for a brief conversation in the meantime. Her hand slipped into her pocket as she walked.

The dwarves of Gargan always managed to empty a few rooms especially for visiting humans and elves when they visited, which shared adjoining tunnels. At the moment, the whole side tunnel was deserted, as most everyone was already outside, awaiting the children. She entered the room that had been set aside for her and shut the door behind her. Taking a seat on the pallet, she pulled a small, rune-covered sphere from her pocket. Its coppery surface was a few shades lighter than her skin, the runes sending a gentle blue light over both as she held it. With a short melody, the device split in half, slowly opening like a clam shell in the palm of her hand. Inside the opening was a flat surface, on which she saw a familiar face.

“Hello again. I hope you have good news for me,” Frida began, trying for some kind of cheerfulness and missing the mark entirely.

The green eyes blinked, glancing guiltily to the side. That was enough of an answer to send Frida’s heart sinking.

“We spoke with the Council,” she began in that quiet voice of hers. “We told them everything. They want us to stay.” Sybil bit her lip. “They want you to return as well.”

Frida stared for a moment, then took a slow breath. “So that’s it, then,” she said, her voice sharp. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“It isn’t like that,” Sybil argued weakly. “If we leave now, my grandfather believes the mensch will be left alone. He thinks that the serpents only attacked them in order to provoke us.”

Heat rose to Frida’s cheeks, and when she spoke, it was with more accusation than she intended: “So we’ll just leave them to die on their own?”

Sybil bit her lip again, her eyebrows furrowing nervously. “Of course not,” she said softly. “We’ll figure something out. And once it’s safe here, we’ll return for the mensch.” She spoke as if she was trying to convince herself as much as Frida, her eyes pleading. “They’ll be okay,” she insisted, needing it to be true.

Then Frida remembered: the other two had left immediately after the first dragon-snake attack. Sybil didn’t know about the snakes’ demands, or what the children had so foolishly done in response. She didn’t know about Sabia. Instantly, Frida’s anger drained. 

Only to be rekindled as she explained exactly what tragedies had occurred in her friend’s absence, as she watched the hope crumble from Sybil’s face, horrified tears building in her wide, green eyes...

* * *

As they approached the general vicinity of the seamoons inhabited by the mensch, the children on board only became jumpier. At one point, the dolphins returned, informing the rest of them through Alake that their parents were waiting for them on Gargan, the dwarven seamoon, and from there, spirits had been brighter than ever.

The initial reunion of the princesses and prince to their families could only be described as joyous; parents embraced their children, and happy tears were shed, and the three children rushed to tell their parents of all that had happened to them. Haplo, who was watching the procession with what the dragon sensed was a tinge of discomfort, was greeted like a hero, welcomed with open arms by kings and queens alike.

The event took a sharp turn when Devon finally thought to ask where Sabia was, and Grundle and Alake had looked up, as if expecting her to have been there all along. The dragon, of course, had learned much about the elven princess in recent days, both directly through what the children had explained to Haplo and through the conversations they’d had with each other while he had watched and listened.

At the mention of her name, a sob escaped the throat of the elven king, and it became instantly, soberingly clear that the tears running down his cheeks were not tears of happiness at all. One by one, horror dawned on each of the children’s faces as they understood, their tears also turning to those of sorrow as Sabia’s fate was recounted.

The dragon was pained. Haplo stood by quietly for a few moments, standing apart from the outpouring of emotion. He was much more familiar with this shared feeling of grief than the joy of reunion, but that didn’t mean he knew how to react to it any better.

At least they couldn’t mourn long. There just wasn’t the time for it, and that was familiar, too: the need to keep moving. There was never time to dwell on grief, and there were times the dragon had counted it as one of the few blessings of the Labyrinth, however dark and cruel. Even the elven king seemed to know it; he was managing to hold himself together, if only just barely. It didn’t take long for the attention to shift to Haplo, who filled in the blanks the children’s scattered explanations had left. He told the kings and queens about his meeting with the dragon-snakes and their new plan to transport the kingdoms to Surunan.

His words were met with skepticism, of course, but the mensch were backed into a corner, now. They had no other choice and Haplo knew it, laying out the plan clearly and rationally until they inevitably accepted.

Something stirred in the dragon’s heart. The scene brought back too many memories. What once he might have wished to forget, he now allowed himself to fully feel: sympathy, regret. Had nothing changed since he last set foot here? Well, the dragon thought wryly, considering his current form, perhaps not  _ nothing.  _ If nothing else, circumstances had found a way to become even more complicated.

He’d feared traveling to Chelestra almost as much as he’d feared returning to Arianus, for exactly this reason. It had taken all his strength, floating with Haplo’s flailing body in the Goodsea, to banish the memories and fears that had welled up at the sight of a mensch ship and guide the pair of them towards their rescuers.

And that decision had led them here, where the mensch were bickering about whether or not to trust the snakes. Despite the terror the mensch held for the serpents-- and rightly so-- it was a brief discussion. Without the Sun Chasers, the mensch had no way to transport their people to safety, unless the Sartan intervened. Evidently, none of the leaders were much convinced that they would.

It was Haplo who made the decision for them, slowly and carefully convincing the mensch royalty with the same skill which he had used to convince their children to follow him. One by one, the mensch acknowledged what they had probably understood all along: they didn’t have much choice in the matter.

“There’s one problem no one has addressed,” Dumaka said, once agreement had finally been reached. Haplo, who had been about to give the mensch their next steps, frowned, while the rest of the mensch’s expressions turned stony. “What will we do about  _ her? _ ”

The last word was stressed, and from the reactions of the rest of the adults in the room, they knew exactly who the human king was referring to.

Grundle, apparently, did not. Her eyebrows scrunched together. “About who?”

Silence, and then Hilda sighed, stepping forward to rest a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Frida elected to stay behind when the other two left,” she said, her voice level enough to nearly mask her disdain.

“‘Just in case,’ she said.” Delu shook her head bitterly.

Grundle, Alake, and Devon, obviously surprised to hear this news, exclaimed. By contrast, no one but the dragon noticed how Haplo had frozen.

“There’s a Sartan  _ here? _ ” Muscles in Haplo’s face clenched, the only outward sign of his reaction, but the dragon could feel his heart beating quicker, his body tensing, as if preparing to fight at any second.

The mensch still didn’t seem to notice. Delu’s voice rose above the rest: “How will the Sartan react when they realize we’ve formed an alliance with their enemies? The plan he proposes could be over before it even begins.”

Yngvar tugged at his beard. “We can keep our plans away from her for a time.”

“But not indefinitely,” Dumaka argued. “And when they find out--!”

From here, the conversation lost a clear direction, as everyone began speaking at once, voices quickly rising. The dragon watched from his perch on Haplo’s shoulder, wanting to speak up, knowing he had nothing worth adding. He was surprised when the first insults were thrown, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been; their circumstances had been a strain on their hard-earned peace for years, now.

“Hey!” Haplo had stepped forward, now, holding his arms out. “Quiet down a minute! Where is this Sartan now? We’ll have to think of some way-- everyone, shut up!”

Heads turned his way, and immediately, silence fell. Haplo took a breath, resting his hands on his hips, and only then did he realize that the mensch weren’t actually looking at him, but at something behind him.

A woman was standing in the doorway, her face hard, her jaw clenched tightly. Haplo turned to see what had petrified the mensch rulers so. For a split second, the dragon felt his confusion, until he noticed the woman’s hair: pure white, spiraling outward in soft coils that darkened to brown at their ends. 

Silence. It seemed no one in the room even dared to breathe as the woman’s dark eyes sought out each of them in turn, before coming to rest on Haplo and the dragon. Her face was stony; she said nothing, made no movements, letting the blow of her presence, and worse, her obvious displeasure, fill the room. The dragon wondered what she was thinking; how long had she been standing there? What had she heard? Her expression didn’t change as she looked over the pair of them.

The moment could not have lasted long, though it felt like an eternity of frozen silence. Eventually, the woman turned to face the mensch. “I’ve received word from Surunan,” she said simply. Her voice was strangely hollow, and the dragon saw her mouth tense, and then noted redness around her eyes. “I was instructed to leave this place behind and prepare to defend my home against the serpents.”

No one quite seemed to know what to say in response to this pronouncement. The Sartan woman’s hand shook at her side, and she clenched it together once. “The serpents have been our enemies for thousands of years,” she continued. “When the Council realizes that they’re the ones helping you approach their shores…”

She paused, and around him, the dragon heard the mensch’s breathing shift, fast and terrified at the implied threat. But the dragon, watching the woman carefully, saw something in her that the mensch could not have seen: conflict, pain, and an indecision that was familiar to him, no matter how many years had passed.

“I can’t guarantee Surunan’s safety. The Council believes the snakes may attack it, next.” The woman hesitated, then shook her head slightly and continued, each word deliberately spoken. “But if you stay here much longer,” she said, “you will certainly die.”

Still more silence, but now the dragon heard shifting and mutterings from the mensch behind him.

In the end, Haplo was the only one bold enough to speak. “What are you saying?” The Sartan’s eyes immediately flashed back to the Patryn, but Haplo had mastered himself, showing no trace of the panic the dragon had felt from him a minute ago. “Do you mean that you intend to help us?”

The woman looked at him, simply looked at him with something like curiosity, before turning to the mensch again. “The Council has made the decision to leave you here on your own, for the time being. If the dragon-snakes have offered you assistance in our place, you have little choice but to accept it.”

“We knew that already.” Grundle’s voice rang out stubbornly from behind the dragon.

The dragon caught the soft sound of one of Eliason’s gentle footsteps before he spoke, his tone more diplomatic, though not without an edge of its own: “We are uncertain if the rest of your people will see it that way.”

The woman nodded, white and brown curls bouncing around her face. “Leave that to me.”

The mensch murmured, cut off by Dumaka, who stepped forward decisively, standing a few steps ahead of Haplo. “Speak plainly, Frida,” he demanded, and if the Sartan was surprised or offended by his tone, she showed no sign of it. “Do you intend to explain all this to your people?”

The Sartan, Frida, pursed her lips. She was nervous, the dragon realized, but she knew she couldn’t appear so. “Exactly,” she said.

Now, the dragon allowed himself to look away from Frida long enough to see the mensch’s reactions firsthand. Most of them looked suspicious, particularly the three dwarves, but there was not much of an opposition to make, as Grundle and the others had already realized once, today. Damned if they left, damned if they stayed behind.

“It was the Sartan who told us to come to their lands, after all,” Eliason finally said. “And we have no way of attacking them. They know this,” he said, his voice trembling slightly at the reminder. The other mensch grimaced or closed their eyes, sharing the memory. “It does seem reasonable,” the elven king concluded quietly.

“Since when have the Sartan ever been reasonable?” Yngvar muttered, tone laden with bitterness and pain. Hilda glanced sharply at him, but said nothing; the dragon, recalling Grundle’s words about the dwarves’ Sartan with some guilt, suspected such a comment would not have been suffered so lightly in different company. 

“Please,” Frida said, hesitating. “We have no desire to see your people destroyed.” There were a few audible scoffs at that, but she pressed on. “The Council will listen to me,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”

Grundle looked skeptical. So did her parents, along with most of the rest of the mensch, though some, like Eliason, hid it better than others. Frida, who still held the bulk of the dragon’s attention, stood firm, without looking away, but if the dragon had to guess, she wasn’t as convinced by her own words as she’d like to be.

Haplo crossed his arms, shifting to look back at the mensch, each of whom turned to him, looking for guidance in this stranger who had saved the lives of their children. He shrugged. “I don’t think we have any other choice, here.”

That was what it came down to with everything, in the end, wasn’t it? Still, just like that, Haplo’s sole voice of approval had apparently settled the matter.

* * *

Though many of the preparations for the mensch leaving had already been made, the change of plans left much to be decided, planned, argued for. And as the mensch did so, the dragon watched the realization that they were really doing this settle in like a heavy weight in the stomach. Haplo presided over these discussions, cutting petty arguments off as they occurred and directing them to more productive lines.

The Sartan woman, on the other hand, stood off to the side, watching the proceedings and adding not a word unless she was specifically asked for input, which was rare. The dragon kept a close watch on her. He guessed she was close to Haplo’s age, though the roundness of her cheeks made her look younger. He didn’t recognize her, but that didn’t surprise him, as he wasn’t likely to recognize many Sartan after all the years he’d been away. 

Frida was shorter and wider than most Sartan, with rounded, soft features. Too soft for how troubled she looked. The dragon could guess why. Precedent didn’t necessarily lend itself well to a Sartan in the situation she had chosen to place herself in, and she probably knew it full well.

After a few hours of conversing, many of the largest decisions made, there was a bit of a lull in the discussion, and Frida stood. Lips pursed, eyes down. “I suppose it’s time for me to go, then.”

No one interrupted her. The dragon suspected they were eager to see her go. Frida seemed to know this, too, and hesitated. Slowly, her dark brown eyes swept over the men and women before her. “I don’t know what they told you, but the others were right. The serpents can’t be trusted.” The dragon wasn’t sure, but he thought her gaze might have lingered his and Haplo’s way just a second longer than the rest.

Haplo scoffed, unimpressed. “As far as I can tell, it’s only the Sartan that they have a problem with. Probably for good reason,” he added, unable to resist the jab. The mensch around him stiffened, but Frida’s expression did not change. “So we should have no problem.”

Frida’s mouth twisted unhappily. “I’m sure that’s what they’d like you to believe. But they have another reason for all this, I know it.” She shook her head, eyes closed. “If there were any other way…”

“That’s a luxury we don’t have, now.” Yngvar’s fist pounded decisively on the table to punctuate his words.

“As you said, there simply isn’t another way for us,” Delu said, her voice calm but cold.

Frida’s eyes opened. “I know,” she said simply. “But be careful.” Again, her eyes seemed to flicker towards Haplo.

“Tell me honestly,” Dumaka’s voice came gently. “Do you truly believe you can guarantee our safety? The last time something like this occurred, it didn’t turn out well for us.”

Expectant silence washed over the hall as all eyes turned back to the Sartan woman. Her shoulders rose and fell. “I know. I’ve been thinking about that, as well. But the situation is different, this time.” She nodded firmly. “You will cross the Goodsea safely. I’m sure of it.”

Haplo frowned, unsure what they had meant by ‘last time.’ He recalled Alake mentioning that the mensch had initially tried to fight off the Sartan’s rule-- maybe that was what they were referring to. He would have to ask later, if he could.

In any case, he was sure the woman wasn’t as confident as she was trying to appear. The human king only nodded, however reluctantly.

Just as the woman had raised her arms in preparation for a spell, a green fluttering at Haplo’s shoulder distracted them all. The dragon was now perched on the table, tail raised, the tip of it moving around in strange circles. Except that they weren’t circles, Haplo realized a second later, but a rune, drawn in the air and sent in the Sartan’s direction.

The woman stopped, her arms dropping in surprise. Dark brown eyes fixed on the dragon, then glanced up to Haplo, full of confusion and curiosity. When neither presented any clear answer, Frida hesitantly lifted a hand, a few rings on her fingers glittering as she drew a single sigil in the air, directed towards the dragon. Then, she turned away, her voice filling the room. Before Haplo could say anything else, the dragon had settled back on his shoulders, and the Sartan woman had vanished.

Immediately, the mensch rulers set back to work, but Haplo spent a moment in contemplative silence, staring at the place where the woman had been only seconds before.

_ What was that about? _

The dragon didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, his voice sounded distracted in Haplo’s mind.  _ I wished her a safe journey. _

_ In Sartan? _ Haplo asked, confused.

The dragon cocked his head, tail curling around one of Haplo’s arms.  _ I suppose it just seemed like the right thing to do, in the moment. _

Which seemed strange to Haplo, but as he was about to question the dragon farther, he noticed Grundle, ignoring her parents for the moment, stepping forward, her suspicious gaze still fixed on the spot where the Sartan had vanished. She noticed Haplo watching her. “And so it’s all up to them,” she said, obviously displeased.

Haplo raised his eyebrows, meeting her eyes significantly. “For now,” he said. 

With that, he stepped forward, intent on the mensch who were beginning to speak again. Plans were quickly forming in his mind, so fixated on the future that perhaps it made sense that he never noticed how the dragon’s attention had wavered, golden eyes drifting to the space where, not so long ago, a Sartan had been standing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I have a lot I could say about this chapter and the next section of this story in general, but I guess I'll just let it speak for itself, huh?  
>  I WILL say that originally this was just the first half of a much longer chapter, but I decided that it was getting too long, so I split them up. That means the next chapter should be posted much sooner, probably within a few weeks!  
> Thanks as always for dropping by!


	10. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haplo, the dragon, the mensch, and the Sartan all do their best to keep moving forward, but Chelestra has a way of stirring up old memories for everyone.

The dwarves, elves, and humans had spent many years preparing for a scenario very near this one; most of the work for moving out of their current seamoons had been done already. There were a few hiccups, naturally-- the dragon-snakes, for one, whose presence set all of the mensch on edge, but particularly the superstitious dwarves. Still, there were few motivators greater than the fear of freezing to death, even if it meant walking straight to the Sartan who had taken over their kingdoms.

If Haplo had it his way, the Sartan wouldn’t be in control for much longer. He’d mentioned as much to the mensch, and they’d given him a look. Once again, he heard the story of their initial futile attempts to rebel against the Sartan.

“Is that what you meant when you were talking about what happened last time?”

The mensch nodded, and Haplo let the subject drop for the time being.

He spent most of the waiting time on Phondra, with Alake and the rest of the human tribes there. The former was beginning to pose a problem, really; the girl was infatuated with him, a fact that Haplo found mildly uncomfortable. Still, aside from that, he was enjoying his time with the humans. Enjoying it to a surprising degree, actually. There was an atmosphere about the place that was almost nostalgic, reminding him of time spent among Squatter camps. He would grow restless, soon enough, but the brief respites from traveling the Labyrinth on his own had marked some of the closest moments to peace Haplo could recall.

There was another kind of familiarity about the place that Haplo couldn’t quite pin down. More than once, a particular sight or scent would send strange shivers down his spine, leaving him with the most bizarre sensation that he really had been here before.

* * *

_He was on Phondra, and he was very nervous. The mensch kings and queens were all there, in the hall where they usually met, not happy at all, their voices raised, insults being hurled, fists pounding on tables. He didn’t know what was happening, what to do: they would hurt themselves if they kept this up._

_He should stop them, he thought wildly, or tell someone, but neither of these seemed quite right. He tried to take a step forward, but found that his feet were locked together._

_He blinked, and now instead of the menschs’ upset faces, it was a new face that filled him with fear: Samah. Behind him, a row of Sartan were seated at a table, glancing at each other._

_He turned, found himself wandering listlessly among perfectly structured buildings lined with beautiful gardens. It was lovely, but the longer he walked through it, the more he began to notice that he was the only person in the streets; the city was empty._

_Disconcerted, he stepped inside a building full of books, a large empty table in the center, and he knew he shouldn’t have been there but he did not turn around. He approached the bookshelves, running his hands along rows of books._

_A sharp clatter jolted him back, and when he turned, there were Sartan at the table, and his heart stopped. One of the Sartan stood, hair falling like curtains around her face as she walked towards him. The floor fell away beneath him._

_He landed in the middle of a forest, running from something. He didn’t know what he was running from, exactly, but it didn’t matter, for he knew that if it caught up to him, he was as good as dead. Alone in the Labyrinth._

_But he suddenly realized that he wasn’t alone at all. There was a woman by his side, gripping a rune-covered spear. They were running together, blood pumping through his veins, and his fear melted away easily. The woman was as strong as he was, fierce and unrelenting, and what could possibly hurt the two of them as long as they were together? The two of them ran together, finding a safe place to rest for the night. Her hand brushed over her abdomen, and he felt happy, hopeful even, because he had her and soon, they would have their child._

_They had been daring enough to light a fire tonight, and her face was beautiful in the flickering red light. He was overwhelmed with a sudden longing for her, for no other reason than that they were here, alive together, as they should be. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close, to feel her skin warm against his._

* * *

“Are you awake?”

The dragon opened his eyes first; his sensitive hearing had always made him a lighter sleeper than his Patryn. He blinked, feeling somewhat fuzzy from sleep, and for a moment he thought he might still be dreaming. He saw the woman’s brown skin and dark hair, heard her voice whispering to him, the warmth or her hand shaking him awake.

No, that wasn’t right: she was shaking Haplo awake. Haplo was only just stirring beside the dragon’s body, his eyes fluttering open, glazed as he reached out for the woman’s shoulders, and the dragon managed to gather his wits just in time to flap his wings wildly, inadvertently sending himself careening between the pair of them quite clumsily.

Alake’s high yelp and his own undignified squawk seemed to wake Haplo up fully, at least. His eyes darted around, remembering where he was: the tent that the Phondrans had offered him, where he’d gone to sleep after the excitement of the hunt the previous day.

“Are you alright?” she cried, hovering hesitantly by the side of Haplo’s pallet.

“Fine,” Haplo grunted, rubbing at his head while the dragon collected himself. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Chagrined, Alake shuffled her feet. “There’s food prepared for you, I was just coming to tell you--”

“Right, I got it,” Haplo said shortly.

Fully realizing how little she was wanted, Alake nodded quickly. “Sorry to wake you,” she said, embarrassment clear, and retreated out the tent.

As soon as she left, Haplo heaved a deep sigh, covering his face with a bandaged arm.

A long silence. “That was weird,” Haplo grumbled.

_Indeed._

He was not particularly trying to disguise his disapproval. Haplo looked back to him, a deep frown carved on his face, and the dragon fluttered his wings. _Let’s try to stay present,_ he finished, rather pointedly.

Haplo’s eyebrows creased, as if he wanted to argue, but they both knew exactly how much of a disaster the dragon had just prevented, and in the end he managed, with much effort, to merely nod reluctantly.

Which left the dragon to consider the remnants of dream still floating haphazardly through his mind. It had been so real, but that no longer surprised him very much. He was no stranger to dreams that felt more like memories, having been bombarded by such dreams in Arianus, among other times.

But until now, they had only been his own dreams and memories. Another result of the link Death’s Gate had forged between his and Haplo’s minds… had it really only been a few days ago? In any case, he could think of no other explanation that made sense.

He wondered how much of his part of the dream Haplo had caught. Perhaps he hadn’t even recognized them as memories: the mensch in the dream were as proud as they always had been, knowing that they hadn’t needed the Sartan for thousands of years, and certainly didn’t need them now. That hadn’t changed. Had anything, really?

He couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been a mistake to come here at all. Time and time again, the Sartan interfered, to deleterious effect. And now here he was, repeating and compounding those same mistakes. Like dragging another Sartan into the mess along with him, a small, accusatory voice whispered in the back of his mind, and something inside him shrank with guilt.

He’d wanted to forget about Chelestra, of course, but he hadn’t really expected to; he’d learned by now that his forced forgetfulness was no longer as effective a tactic as it once had been.

Haplo was still rubbing at his eyes, his face turned away from the dragon. Even if it had been, he realized dimly, Chelestra in particular seemed good at dragging up old, painful memories.

Haplo’s expression was carefully empty, gaze fixed downward, having busied himself with adjusting his bandages, and devoting rather more attention to the task than was strictly warranted.

The dragon shifted just slightly from his seated position beside the Patryn. _I didn’t know…_

Haplo’s shoulders stiffened. _What?_

The dragon hesitated, remembering the dream again, now thinking of the parts that hadn’t been his own. Of the woman in the Labyrinth, of the peace and love and longing he’d been filled with at the sight of her, of the child he knew she carried. Haplo had never spoken about any such woman. Might it have just been a dream, after all?

But no. The image was too sharp, too specific, and the emotions too real. _You had a child,_ the dragon said softly, certain of it.

Haplo didn’t turn his eyes away from his bandaged arms; he didn’t hardly move at all. He’d never spoken much about his past; the little the dragon knew were the painful glimpses of Haplo’s childhood he’d seen the first time their minds had been connected by Death’s Gate.

 _Maybe._ The world flit across the dragon’s mind quickly, as though Haplo had not quite wanted to admit it. And then, more quickly, a bit harsh: _It doesn’t matter._

They both knew how convincing that was, but the dragon allowed Haplo to leave it at that. Clearly, he didn’t want to think about it, much less discuss it, and the dragon couldn’t really blame him. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about it.

He’d never considered that Haplo might have a child. Haplo, as long as he’d known him, had always kept his distance from other Patryns. In the Labyrinth, he’d tended to avoid Squatter camps on the rare occasions they’d spotted them, and in the Nexus, he’d stayed on the outskirts, largely ignoring his fellows and the community they’d constructed there. The dragon never would have thought to picture him with a Patryn child, much less his own.

But now that he had, the idea was tempting in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it was Haplo’s memories, themselves, the repressed longing soaked through every thread of them.

The dragon, captivated, pictured it again, wondering when the memory had taken place… surely it couldn’t have been long before he’d run into the dragon, not more than a few years… how old would that make the child? An image constructed itself in his mind’s eye: a child, about seven years old, gender indeterminate, with red and blue marking their skin, sharing the features of both Haplo and the woman from the dream…

A flare of indescribable hurt burst through the mental link, making the dragon visibly flinch, instantly dampened as the doorway between their minds was slammed shut. Still, the feelings lingered: pain and grief and, more intensely than anything else, deep shame.

Cut off from Haplo, the dragon tried for an apologetic look, but the Patryn wasn’t looking his way. Guilt settled in the dragon’s chest as Haplo, stoic as ever, stood and stalked out of the tent.

The dragon was left behind on his own. Under other circumstances, he would have followed Haplo out, but he hesitated, this time. He could hardly begrudge Haplo a moment to himself after something like that.

The dog whined behind the dragon.

Quickly, the dragon craned his head around to see. Indeed, there was the animal, sitting right by Haplo’s pillow, head on its paws. Still tailing along, then, in its way, and still ignored by its master. Its brown eyes were very wide and very sad-looking, and once again the dragon’s heart wrung with pity.

* * *

The dragon was warm, currently cradled in Alake’s arms, listening to the low whispers of the three mensch children. There had not been many chances for them to speak in recent days, as each had been cloistered on a different Sun Chaser for the duration of their journey. Upon nearing the shore, however, the mensch rulers had reconvened in preparation of their first meeting with the Sartan on their homeland.

The children had found each other quickly, of course, and were not about to leave each other any time soon. All three were worried about their parents, who were preparing to leave. It had been decided that they would meet with the Council on Surunan before they gave the order for the rest of the population to dock. Their children had tried to convince them that they should accompany them, but it was hardly more than a token protest.

The dragon was glad that they, at least, would be safe, because Haplo had insisted on coming along.

It was completely reckless, irrational, as if Haplo was _trying_ to get discovered, and for all the dragon knew, he did.

_What happens if they discover who you are?_

Haplo shook his head, just subtly enough that Alake didn’t notice it. _As far as anyone here knows, I’m just another human. They won’t look twice at me._

The dragon looked at him skeptically. Haplo’s arms may have still been covered in bandages, but the Patryn was clearly itching for a fight. And the dragon couldn’t shake the fear that he was likely to get one. _If something goes wrong--_

Haplo raised an eyebrow, gesturing forward for the dragon to crawl out of Alake’s arms. _Then you’ll get us out of there._

Doubt flooded the dragon.

He really should have been more prepared for this. That was the thing. But his mind had gone perfectly blank with worry when Haplo announced his intentions to join the mensch on Surunan.

He’d known they would be coming back to Chelestra, of course, and somewhere deep down he’d known that Haplo would find the Sartan. He should have been prepared, but he hadn’t anticipated the dragon-snakes, or his old forgetfulness finally failing him.

He wasn’t sure if the serpents really knew who he was-- he wasn’t sure how they could possibly know, but there was something so deliberate in the way they had been speaking about Alfred. Serpent Mage, they had called him. A liar and a traitor, that was what Haplo believed. The thing was, he wasn’t really wrong.

Alfred had been useless in Surunan, before. Perhaps this new Sartan would fare better. As for the dragon…

Alake, noticing his hesitation, shifted her arms forward, trying to encourage him. “Is something the matter?”

“Guess he likes you,” Haplo said lightly, but his eyes were narrowed. Not with anger or disapproval, but with concern, of all things.

He made his decision, then. Well, what else was he going to do, stay behind shivering and worrying in the arms of the human princess?

He moved out of Alake’s grasp to climb up Haplo’s arm, careful not to disturb the bandages there. He paused on Haplo’s shoulder.

 _You can stay behind me, if you want._ Haplo shifted his shoulders, gesturing at the traveling cloak he was wearing over his usual clothing: a gift from the Phondrans. _I’d rather they not get too close a look at you, anyway,_ he added quickly.

It was a bit cowardly, but the dragon couldn’t help feeling relieved at the idea. _You’re certain about this?_

Haplo nodded. _Nothing will happen. I’m almost sure of it. And if something does…_

The dragon closed his eyes, trying to believe it himself, and found a surge of confidence that he was sure wasn’t his own. He grasped at it, anyway, needing the feeling. _That’s what I’m here for,_ he finished.

Haplo smiled at that, and over his shoulder, the dragon thought he spotted a small, furry creature wagging its tail. The dragon curled his own tail the slightest bit around Haplo’s arm.

* * *

From his position behind Haplo’s back, beneath his traveling cloak, the dragon could only watch through Haplo’s eyes as he and the mensch were greeted by the Council.

He froze entirely when Haplo first spotted Samah. Even the senses of the dragon seemed to fail him, as for a split second the only thing he could register was the sight of that man’s face and the frantic thudding in his chest. Seeing him through Haplo’s eyes was somewhat dreamlike, but undeniably more real than the face he saw in his nightmares. The dragon was instantly, grateful to be hidden away beneath Haplo’s cloak even as he was ashamed of it.

Samah appeared almost exactly as he did in his memories: still handsome, still exuding strength and leadership. If there was any difference, it was in the way he had aged, perhaps a bit more rapidly than a Sartan should have in such a short span: there were more wrinkles, whiter hair, tiredness in his eyes.

The dragon’s one comfort was in the way Haplo’s consciousness filtered through the experience as he perceived it. While the dragon froze at the sight of the Council table, Haplo’s initial flare of hatred had already been damped down to something cooler, detached and rational. He clung to the feeling of steadiness, relieved for the anchor.

Haplo spotted Ramu, next. He sat directly beside Samah, alongside the rest of the Council, in the seat that used to belong to his mother. Another flood, this time of something between sadness and anger, rushed through the dragon at the sight.

In addition to the Councilmembers, three other Sartan women sat in extra chairs off to the side, hands clasped deferentially in front of them. The dragon recognized Frida, who had changed out of her leathers and into the white robes favored by the Sartan. Her posture was relaxed, but the dragon noticed a sharpness in her focus as Haplo and the mensch filed into the Council room.

The other two Sartan, he reasoned, must be the two other emissaries the mensch children had told them about. The woman standing to the far left was Frida’s visual opposite in many ways; she was tall and thin, with light skin and narrow facial features. Her hair was long and perfectly straight, pulled away from her austere face.

It was the third Sartan woman, sitting between the first two, who drew the dragon’s attention, however. He recognized her by the shape and shade of her eyes, the way her white hair fell to frame her face. He had time to feel little more than a stab of grief when the young woman stood, breaking rank to step swiftly around the Council’s table, ignoring the startled reactions of her fellow Sartan. She stopped in front of Eliason, her head bowed, her hair sweeping down to hide her expression. Hilda stepped forward, protective anger glinting in her eyes, but Delu caught the dwarf woman’s shoulder at the last second.

Through Haplo’s eyes, the dragon saw the Sartan woman trembling. Through Haplo’s ears, he heard her choked murmur: “I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, it seemed the whole chamber held its breath. Eliason’s features flickered with obvious pain: this must be the Sartan Devon had spoken of: she had taken the name Sybil as she lived among the elves.

From his place at the head of the Council table, Samah stood. “Our meeting is about to begin, Sister,” he said, firm. “Please, return to your seat.”

At Samah’s address, Sybil lifted her head, revealing the puffiness around her eyes, the way her lip trembled as she struggled to hold it stiff. She blinked, her white sleeve rising to wipe away a tear before it could roll down her already-wet cheeks.

One of the Councillors on Samah’s left looked up. “She has suffered greatly, Samah,” he said, speaking in Sartan. Mild disapproval laced his words. “Give her a moment.”

The dragon, through Haplo, watched the rest of the Council, noting the frustration flickering across Samah’s expression, a sentiment which seemed to be echoed in one or two of the other Councillors. Other Councillors, though, were nodding at the man’s words, or watching the Sartan woman sympathetically.

Eliason, emotional wounds freshly reopened, stared uncertainly at the mourning Sartan before him. Then, he closed his eyes, nodded. He whispered something too soft to hear, then placed one hand on the woman’s shoulder. There was a sense of awkwardness about the movement; as the need to share in their grief momentarily overpowered the inherent strangeness of the situation.

The dragon watched Haplo scan over the Councilmembers once again, registering their mixed reactions. The Council had never exactly been a body of perfect unity, the dragon knew, but even so, he wasn’t sure he remembered sensing this degree of tension between them, before.

Samah’s fingers tapped against the wooden surface of the table. “Take your seat,” he said again, more sternly this time. The dragon was surprised to note how little Samah seemed to be trying to mask his impatience. Another change brought by the years?

This time, Sybil nodded, and she turned, standing taller than she had when she had first stood.

“We could have saved her,” she said in soft Sartan, still on the brink of tears. She had spoken barely louder than a whisper, yet the soft syllables seemed to fill up the entire room. “We were supposed to protect them.”

Samah’s eyes flared with anger, his frown deepening into a scowl, and for a moment the dragon was certain he would raise his voice. But just as his mouth opened, his attention was caught by another Sartan quickly rising from her seat. “We’re very sorry for your loss, Sister,” Bridget said, also in Sartan. “But we have to move on, now.” Her tone was businesslike, her hands clasped in front of her, but the dragon noticed her sharp eyes had softened just slightly.

Samah had grit his teeth, and even as he nodded slowly, his scowl betrayed his true irritation. “Exactly. So please,” he said, unable to keep the harshness from his tone. “Sit down.”

Immediately, Sybil cringed, stiffly bowing her head. By the time she moved back to her chair, alongside her two fellows, her pale face had gone perfectly blank, but for the slightest tremble of her lip.

The dragon saw more than one member of the Council look away as they watched this sequence of events. “Really,” one murmured. The discomfort in the room had risen palpably, and in that one word, the dragon identified the reason. The Sartan language, laced with magic much like that of the Patryns’, illustrated the thoughts of the speaker, and in that one careless word, he and the rest of the Sartan were reminded of another Councillor who had once stood in that very spot, holding herself with dignity as Samah scolded her.

Samah always had been the type of man to turn familial connections into political advantage. The dragon, seeing the Sartan’s tense posture, wondered if Samah had ever had to worry about this tactic backfiring before now.

* * *

“We are pleased you have made your way to Surunan,” Samah began, in the elven language, this time. _Quick,_ Haplo thought. No doubt he wanted to smooth over whatever embarrassment the last few moments had caused. “It must be said, however,” Samah continued, “that the _manner_ in which you have elected to arrive was… unfortunate.”

A few of the mensch stiffened at the Sartan’s words. They had planned for Eliason to speak for them, being considered the most skilled with diplomacy. The elf appeared quite shaken, and for a moment Haplo, who had seen elvish grieving firsthand in the past few weeks, wasn’t certain he would find his voice.

But the elf collected himself, holding his regal posture. “That may be so,” he said, voice level. “We were not left with much other option, as you well know.”

At Samah’s sides, a few Sartan traded pointed looks. Samah’s own mouth tightened, betraying his annoyance. “These three have explained the circumstances to the Council and argued on your behalf,” he said, waving a hand toward the three Sartan women at the side of the room. Frida’s eyes flashed with irritation, while Sybil, sitting beside her, kept her head down. The third, who by elimination must be Bridget, looked quite put out to be grouped in with the other two.

“They have assured us that your alliance with the serpents is a temporary one. Now that you are here, it goes without saying that you are once again under the sole guidance of the Council.” Here, Samah grit his teeth. “That being the case,” he continued, sounding most reluctant, “the Council has agreed to overlook this lapse.”

 _Well, would you look at that,_ Haplo thought, dimly aware of the mensch around him struggling not to react to Samah’s announcement. _She actually managed it._

He hadn’t been sure which way it would go, himself, though he would never have bet on the Sartan suddenly developing a sense of conscience. These Sartan had, after all, already chosen to abandon the mensch, so presumably their hatred of the serpents was more potent than whatever obligation they felt towards the mensch under their so-called care.

It didn’t matter much to him, either way. He could see that the snakes had been right about the Council: they hadn’t come to this decision easily. Whatever tension had already existed among the Councillors had been amplified by the threat of the dragon-snakes, and then the question of what to do with the mensch. And whether they had chosen to keep the mensch or send them away, in the end, Haplo’s developing plan would have progressed just the same.

“As you say,” Delu said at last. There was relief in her voice, if not satisfaction. The mensch were all quite conscious that in this case, a success still meant sentencing themselves to a life beneath the Sartan’s collective thumbs.

“Obviously,” Samah continued, as if no one had spoken, “we would strongly advise you against contacting such despicable creatures in the future.” Haplo had to try very hard not to openly scoff: were the Sartan really giving their orders in the form of ‘strong advice?’ It fit so precisely with the stories Haplo had always heard of them that it bordered on parodic.

Still, it had the desired effect on the mensch, who each nodded, however unhappily.

“Then you may begin moving your people into the cities we have prepared for you.”

Sounds of agreement rang around, and the mensch stood one by one, offering minimally polite acknowledgements to the Council as they prepared to leave. The three emissaries stood as well, ready to rejoin their respective assignments, but Samah raised a hand, indicating that they should stay behind.

Well, that had gone smoother than Haplo had expected. He had hardly been noticed, let alone had his presence questioned. He observed the shuffle of departing mensch, saw Samah distracted with the three emissaries, and made an impulse decision.

“I have a question, actually,” he called. At his voice, the mensch stopped their movements, and for the first time, all eyes turned to him. Samah frowned, looking more than ready to reprimand him, and Haplo spoke quickly to intercept him: “Is there a Sartan here who goes by the name of Alfred?”

Immediately, the room went quiet. Haplo did his best to appear unperturbed as Sartan stiffened, glancing at each other and then Samah. His was the clearest reaction of all: his mouth was hanging slightly open, his brows deeply furrowed, and his skin had even gone visibly paler. He recovered quickly enough, eyeballing the rest of the mensch, who looked equally surprised.

 _What the hell are you playing at?_ A panicked voice hissed in his mind. He felt the dragon’s tail wrap tighter around his waist.

Haplo honestly wasn’t sure. “The dragon-snakes requested we ask about him,” he added quickly, hoping he wasn’t digging himself in deeper.

Samah considered him with piercing eyes, and for the first time, Haplo felt nervous in his presence. “The Sartan you speak of is not with us,” he finally said slowly, deliberately. “And hasn’t been for some time.”

His mask was back up, now, but Haplo had seen it: the man was genuinely jarred. The Councillors, too, were openly whispering amongst themselves, suddenly wondering at the presence of a third human in the mensch’s ranks. Off to the side, the three Sartan were watching with varying levels of interest.

Haplo raised his arms, finding it not too difficult to feign complete ignorance. “Don’t look at me. The snakes are the ones that brought it up.”

Samah’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so,” he murmured, regarding him with much more scrutiny than before. “And... who are you, exactly?” Samah’s gaze flickered towards the three chairs off to the side. The two Sartan on either side immediately glanced towards Frida, sitting between them.

Her lips pursed, but before she could speak, Eliason stepped forward once again. “Haplo was the one who rescued our children. Without him, we might never have made it here.” Behind him, the other mensch rulers nodded their agreement. “He is here at our request.”

Haplo nodded quickly, already cursing his rashness. When Samah said nothing immediately, he turned to the rest of the mensch. “Well, I suppose we’ll be going, then,” he finished. For all he knew, the Sartan were just now realizing that he looked a bit different from the rest of the mensch on Surunan. Haplo resisted the impulse to adjust his bandages. _I might have overplayed my hand there,_ he thought dimly, feeling a panicked flare of agreement from the dragon in response.

He repeated the head bowing motion he’d seen the mensch do as they began to exit the room, and casually-- though as quickly as he could manage-- led the others out of the Council chamber, in the direction of the beach where they’d docked.

 _What were you thinking?_ The dragon was still fretting through their connection, claws tightening in his shirt. Haplo ignored him and the punctures he was no doubt riddling into his shirt, too focused on getting out of there.

To his relief, none of the Sartan called him back.

* * *

What did any of that mean? Haplo wasn’t sure, and his mind buzzed with the wealth of new information, trying to scramble it together. They had clearly recognized the name, but why should Alfred’s name be so shocking if the Sartan was working directly beneath Samah?

“They really are afraid of those serpents, aren’t they?” Hilda murmured thoughtfully as they walked. “Even Samah.”

Yngvar grunted his agreement.

“It was only when you spoke up.” Delu turned her dark eyes onto Haplo. They were the same color and shape as Alake’s, only older, more serious and calculating. Haplo found he could not look at them for too long. “The snakes really told you to ask him that?” she continued, insistent.

Haplo nodded, and Delu’s mouth turned into a troubled frown.

“Well, that’s one way to go about it,” Yngvar grumbled. “I’ve never seen any of _those_ ones so shaken up.” The dwarf’s words confirmed just what Haplo had been thinking, himself: the surprise had been real. That much could be explained away by the fact that a mensch was asking about one of their Sartan at all. Saying the name had been a gamble, though not as much of one as attending the meeting in the first place. But even then, the mere fact that he was currently walking away from the meeting freely was telling, because didn’t that mean… apparently Alfred hadn’t warned them about Haplo, after all. What did _that_ mean?

Then there was the way Samah had reacted, the way he had looked at the other members of the Council. It wasn’t only surprise he’d seen, there. Haplo was too familiar with fear not to recognize it. But why should the Sartan Council fear someone like Alfred? Why should the all-powerful Samah?

If the Sartan had been honest, then Alfred wasn’t on Surunan, after all, and hadn’t been around recently, either. That would mean the snakes had lied. Of course, that didn’t surprise him, much, but it left another concerning question: what else might the snakes have lied about?

* * *

As Haplo and the mensch reboarded the lead Sun Chaser, the dragon did his best to appear calm, in control, but he doubted he managed it. From the look on Haplo’s face, he knew exactly how shaken up the dragon was.

With the mental link still open between them, the dragon had a sense of the direction of Haplo’s thoughts, and he was almost more surprised at Haplo’s conclusions than anything that had happened in the meeting. Samah, afraid of him? The idea was ridiculous; the mere memory of the Sartan had been sending him into frozen panics from the moment he’d set foot on Chelestra.

Though he had to admit that it wasn’t just fear, there, anymore. Walking into the Council’s chambers had been very much like walking into the chamber beneath Drevlin; past the crippling fear was something older and more familiar, something he had forgotten. In this case: disappointment, disillusionment, frustration. Samah had caused so much harm, some of it inadvertent, but much of it out of malice. Here was the cause of the mensch’s misfortune. Here was the man who had sentenced him to the Labyrinth, along with Haplo, and every other Sartan and Patryn who had ever been trapped there.

Here was the man who had, through his actions, killed Orla.

It seemed none of it had changed, since he’d been away. If anything, things had only gotten worse. Samah remained, Orla’s seat on the Council replaced with his loyal son.

He was pleased, suddenly, at the stirring the memory of her had caused on the Council. She had not been forgotten. Good. And Alfred’s name had startled Samah, too. Frightened him, if Haplo was to be believed.

The dragon didn’t know if he did believe, but for a moment, he found himself hoping.

* * *

Grundle and Alake were among the first to reunite with their parents on board, while Devon lingered behind, watching. They listened to the discussion, as the adults reviewed the events of the confrontation with the Sartan. When they had finished. Grundle pursed her lips. “I guess it went about as well as could be expected,” she allowed as Haplo passed her. Her sentiments seemed to reflect those of the rest of the mensch: none seemed terribly pleased with their reception. That they were here now, and could begin to officially move their people to land controlled by the Sartan was likely of little comfort, if better than freezing to death on their original seamoons.

And then Haplo said something that surprised the dragon as much as it surprised Grundle.

“It’s about to get even better.”

That certainly grabbed the attention of the room. Haplo smiled humorlessly. “If all goes well,” he said, “you won’t be under the Sartan’s thumb for much longer. I have a plan.”

The mensch gathered, curious to hear what exactly their savior had come up with. The dragon listened alongside them as Haplo explained, growing more apprehensive with each word.

Yet, somehow, when Haplo finished his speech, looking down questioningly at the dragon, he didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t out of a lack of fear on his part-- he was brimming with it-- but from the strength of all other feeling. Old, familiar grief: for his people, for Orla. Newly-remembered anger: for what his people had become, for what Samah had led them to, for how he and Ramu and the rest of the Council had kept up the same vicious cycle.

And there was something else, now, something that made him realize he had been wrong to think that nothing had changed. It was born from the faces of those Councilmembers, the skepticism, the impatience, and from the discontentment permeating through the Council. It came from the memory of his name and Orla’s face that Samah had tried so unsuccessfully to suppress.

Something _had_ changed, was changing, building itself up into something that he couldn’t name. He didn’t know if it would mean anything, but surely he could hope, right?

That was it, he thought. That was the feeling. Hope. He wasn’t sure he trusted the feeling, but more than anything, he wanted to. Wasn’t that what had led him and Orla into their banishment together? A hope that the action might mean something?

There was something stirring in the Council. That same something stirred in his breast. All this was sure to come to a head, sooner or later. He was beginning to see that clearly. He couldn’t avoid it any more than he could have avoided the calls of the mausoleum on Arianus.

There he had been, unable to do anything but hide behind Haplo’s back. But he couldn’t stay there forever, he knew. And though he wasn’t certain what he would do instead, he made one decision, then and there: whatever was about to happen, he would at least be there to see it, himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! We're getting really close to some important stuff... A lot of it is already written up, but sadly, this semester has been even busier than usual, so it might be a while before I can finish it all. We'll see. Worst comes to worse I'll have to wait until after finals, I think. Here's a silly bonus scene to make up for it?
> 
> Omake:  
> [Haplo stands on the beach beside Grundle and Devon. Alake is a few steps ahead of them, standing up to her knees in the water while dolphins chirp and chitter and splash around her.]  
> Haplo: Just ask them if they’ve ever heard of a Sartan like I just described, okay?  
> Alake: Okay…. Okay…. right….  
> [Alake turns over her shoulder to call back to Haplo]  
> Alake: They say they’ve heard of him. Alfred, the Sartan with a human name.  
> Haplo: Alfred! That’s him!  
> Grundle: Alfred...?  
> Alake: I guess he made for a lot of gossip, there, when he showed up. Ten years ago, just like you said. Really tall, falls over a lot, bad fashion sense?  
> Haplo: Yes! What else? Is he here, now?  
> Alake: Uh huh... okay... They’re saying he seduced Samah’s wife and then disappeared mysteriously.  
> Haplo: [snorts] Seduced? Samah's wife? Well, that’s obviously not him. These dolphins really are something else. There goes that lead, I guess.  
> Grundle: ...  
> Dragon: [shifts uncomfortably]


End file.
